


Red

by illyrilex



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, French Kissing, Friendship, Gen, Groping, Lesbian Sex, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, Past Rape/Non-con, Quiet the grownups are talking, Rape Recovery, Sexual Dysfunction, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-11-27 15:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrilex/pseuds/illyrilex
Summary: An encounter with Vanessa forces King to confront certain feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! A little birdy by the name of jojoDo at fanfiction.net gave me an interesting idea for a fic that I wasn't quite sold on, but then I thought about it a bit and decided to give it a go... but with my signature illyrilex spin, of course. Anyway, you know the deal: all characters are property of SNK, though they should just give me creative control of a certain someone. Anyway, this was fun. I'll probably make corrections as I spot them, so if there are any outstanding typos, rest assured - I'll find them.
> 
> Onward~

An abnormally busy Friday night at the bar called Illusion brought what seemed like the entire city of Southtown to the popular hangout: People were literally everywhere, filling the small building almost to its capacity, the din of their jovial conversations drowning out the music as they all ordered as many drinks as humanly possible in what had to have been an attempt to get as hammered as humanly possible. For the establishment’s owner, a woman known as King, the extra business was a welcome distraction from the turmoil that had been brewing inside of her head for days. She didn’t fully understand why she was being bombarded with thoughts about the trauma she had endured months before; she had come so far, made so much progress… and, yet, she abruptly found herself at least six steps back. Despite wanting nothing more than to go home to her cat so she could try to figure out what, exactly, was making her actively think about such awful things again, King mixed drinks in her usual fashion, awing those who watched with her speed and efficiency while doing her best to make small talk with the patrons -- not because she was feeling particularly friendly, but because she selfishly hoped they would leave good tips.

“Here you go.”

King slid an Old Fashioned to a very dapper man across the counter; he thanked her and excused himself, but not before placing some extra cash down in front of her. With a small smile King pocketed the money and turned away to help the next patron.

“What can I get you?” She asked politely.  
“Can I get four mojitos?”

King briefly pressed her lips together and very seriously considered saying she was out of mint but thought better of it: Business was business, and it was her job to make sure the customer had a pleasant experience, regardless of her feelings about preparing certain beverages, or life in general. She flashed a relatively convincing smile and nodded before turning away to gather her ingredients. Just as she grabbed the limes her good friend, the impossibly beautiful Mai Shiranui, bounded through the crowd and over to the counter, a brilliant smile on her face.

“Kingy,” she exclaimed with glee as she lowered herself onto a nearby stool.  
“Give me a minute,” King called as she continued to prepare the drinks.

After some hellish muddling, mixing, and shaking, King handed off the cocktails and  furrowed her brow as she approached her friend. Mai, as always, looked amazing: Perfect hair, perfect skin, immaculate outfit. It was a rather stark contrast to King, who, while very pretty, had the appearance of someone who simply threw herself together with very little thought. In fact, she had been so preoccupied with her brooding that she hadn’t even bothered to run a brush through her hair before leaving for work. (Somehow, the short locks had settled down during the course of the evening into something that was only _slightly_ disheveled.)

“Hey,” Mai greeted King. She gestured vaguely toward her attire.  
“Hey. I didn’t feel like dressing up tonight,” King explained while wiping her hands on her faded jeans.  
“I can see that…”  
  
Mai carefully looked King up and down, her expression a little worried. King started to feel uncomfortable under her friend’s gaze. She adjusted the sleeves of her wrinkled baseball shirt, perturbed.

“Yes…?”  
“Those bags under your eyes. Are you sleeping alright?”

King made a face; the truth was she _hadn’t_ been sleeping alright by any stretch of the imagination. She had been waking up at all hours, panicked and full of self-hatred -- even on the nights she used medication to aid her slumber.

“Oh, Kingy,” Mai sighed. “You’re thinking about it again.”  
“I… yeah… A little.” King faltered. She took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”  
  
With blinding speed, Mai pulled one of her signature wooden folding fans out of nowhere and whacked King on the top her head with it.

“Hey!?”  
“That’s for saying you’re fine when it’s obvious that you’re not!”  
“I promise I’ll be okay. This is just…” King trailed off.  
“This is not ‘just’ anything. It’s --”  
“What am I making for you?”  
“...Painkiller,” Mai answered, a little bothered by the abrupt change of subject.

King turned away and put the concoction together as quickly as she could, fully aware that Mai was scrutinizing her every move. She garnished the drink with a pineapple wedge and handed it over before shifting her attention back to the numerous customers who were waiting to place orders. After what felt like an eternity of nonstop mixing there was finally a lull in the action as business started to die down.

“I’m taking my break,” King yelled to her employees before returning to Mai, who had long since finished her drink.  
“Welcome back.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Want the pineapple?” Mai slid her empty glass toward King.  
“Sure...”  
  
King took the fruit; she stared at it absently as she rested her elbows on the counter.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mai asked.  
“Not really...” King trailed off as she started eating.  
“It might help?”  
“Doubtful.”  
“Just a little?”

King sighed; she tossed the remnants of her food in the trash and hung her head, unable to think of what to say. On one hand, she had resolved to be more honest with her friends when things got bad; on the other, she didn’t want to ruin Mai’s night with her troubles, or fall further down the proverbial rabbit hole by vocalizing it. She swallowed hard... and stayed silent.

“That’s it,” Mai said as she whipped out her phone. “I’m calling Mary!”  
“What?!” King’s head snapped up. “NO!”

King lunged across the counter in a bid to snatch the device out of Mai’s hand; she nearly knocked the wind out of herself as her midsection smashed against the edge of the hard surface.

“Do _not_ call her!”  
“Why not, Kingy?! She --”  
“ _Don’t_!”

King made another grab for the phone: she successfully wrapped a hand around Mai’s wrist, her feet almost completely off of the floor as her upper body rested against the bar. She used her other hand to attempt to pry her friend’s fingers off of the gadget.

“She needs to know,” Mai grunted. She rose from the stool to try to gain more leverage, which resulted in King awkwardly sliding forward. This caught the attention of the clientele: some gasped while others laughed at the childish scene.  
“People are staring,” King growled as she worked to release the device from Mai’s grasp.  
“I’m used to it,” Mai retorted while she took a quick glance around the room. She stopped struggling but kept her grip on the phone firmly in place.

“Hey, isn’t that Boxer Babe?” She asked.  
“Huh?”  
  
King glanced toward the entrance of the building: The woman in question was well over six-feet tall in her heels, with short, bright red hair that hung around her face, and dark eyes that could probably pierce souls. “Boxer Babe,” indeed.

“ _Vanessa_ ?” King breathed incredulously as she let go of Mai.  
“Doesn’t she usually hang out at Pao Pao?”  
“I think so, yeah…”

The boxer named Vanessa began to cross the room. King watched her, mesmerized, from her place on the counter, unable to remember the last time the two had seen each other. What had they even talked about? It probably wasn’t anything particularly memorable; although Vanessa wasn’t exactly a stranger, she wasn’t exactly a friend, either. She was just… hot. At that moment, King felt light pressure on her chin as it was pushed up so that her lips touched.

“Careful, Kingy,” Mai told her, “You might start catching flies.”

Vanessa approached the bar, seemingly in slow motion. The cropped tank top she wore under her black denim jacket accentuated her curves so perfectly it almost hurt. Hyper aware of her own appearance, King quickly scrambled to stand upright; she tugged at the hem of her shirt before running a hand through her hair. For some reason, the song _Cherry Pie_ started playing in her head.

“Oh my god,” Mai laughed while accessing her camera app. She snapped a photo of King, peered down at it, and laughed some more.  
“Delete that,” King commanded without even looking at her.  
“No way! Oh! Here she comes!”

And then Vanessa was standing next to Mai, her face friendly.

“Hey, you two! Long time no see!”  
“I know, right?!” Mai squealed. She enthusiastically embraced the newcomer before ushering her to a stool. “Sit, sit!”

Vanessa did as she was told. She tilted her head as she fixed her eyes on King.

“I didn’t know you worked here?”  
“I own the place,” King answered, doing her best to come across as herself (whatever _that_ was anymore).  
“You do? That’s awesome!” Vanessa briefly paused as she removed her jacket. “Aren’t you a little young, though? How did you…?”  
“I was already working here and the owner wanted to sell. I had some extra money saved up, so... I bought it.”  
“Very cool!”

King nodded a little too enthusiastically while she willed herself to keep her eyes fixed on Vanessa’s face -- and _not_ the cleavage that was peeking out of her shirt.

“Kingy, why don’t you fix your guest one of your special drinks?”  
“R-right.” King blinked a few times. “How rude of me. What can I get you?”  
“I need a beer,” Vanessa replied. “Something strong.”  
“I have an imperial stout on tap that’s around twelve percent by volume. Will that do?”  
“Bring it!”

As King grabbed a glass and approached the beer faucet she pressed her lips together, somewhat perplexed; she had always been a little enamored by Vanessa: she was gorgeous, and affable, and a great fighter, definitely able to hold her own (which was _really_ hot), but she was also married. Very, _very_ married. She even had a kid. King took a deep breath and squared her shoulders while she poured the beer; she needed to squash the attraction, and quickly. Vanessa was just an acquaintance. A married _acquaintance_ who wouldn’t want anything to do with an irreparably damaged tart anyway.

“Here,” King said as she placed the drink down.  
“Oh, thanks!”

King watched carefully as Vanessa took the beer and began chugging it. There was something in her posture and in the way she was gulping the liquid down that instantly told her that this woman had had a _rough_ day.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get fucked up,” she commented.  
“It’s been… a _day_ ,” Vanessa replied. “A _week_ , really.”  
“Aww...” Mai frowned. “That doesn’t sound very good. You can tell us about it if you want.”  
“I wouldn’t want to bore you.”  
“You could never be boring,” King blurted out. She instantly regretted making such a dopey comment.

Vanessa let out a hollow laugh.

“You have no idea.”

There was silence among the trio  as Vanessa drank more. King didn’t know why, but she found herself staring at the other woman’s hands: Long fingers (did she play piano, too?), short nails (don’t go there...), and a thin, pale line where her wedding ring _should_ have been. King squinted at the bare finger as she started to add everything up: strong beer plus somewhat defeated body language plus missing jewelry had to equal marital problems. Before King could say or do anything, Mai seized Vanessa’s left hand; she held it up in front of her face so she could get a better look at it.

“Are you getting a divorce?!”

King nearly choked on her own spit, flabbergasted that Mai had asked such a blunt, invasive question.

“I am _so_ sorry,” King started. “Sometimes Mai just doesn’t --”  
“No, no, it’s fine,” Vanessa interrupted, her tone light. “We’re not divorcing -- we just decided to take a break.”  
“Oh, no.” Mai instantly deflated.  
“It’s okay, really,” Vanessa went on. “It’s not ideal, but it’s not _all_ bad.”  
“It’s not?”  
“Nah. It’s been forever since I’ve had a night out to myself, and running into the two of you is a nice surprise. This beer is delicious, by the way. Can I have another one?”

King nodded, a little envious of Vanessa’s ability to look on the bright side of things. She took the now empty glass and headed back to the beer faucet so she could pour a refill.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in women’s clothing,” Vanessa remarked casually. Her eyes scanned King, thoughtful.  
“Oh, Kingy has all kinds of clothes you wouldn’t expect her to own,” Mai spoke up. “High-heeled boots, and _dresses_ , and she used to have this really cute black skirt that really showed off her le --”

King made a loud, somewhat bizarre noise that cut across Mai at the mention of the cursed attire, which was no longer part of her wardrobe. The “cute” article of clothing had been reduced to nothing more than a piece of soiled evidence that was probably still sitting in a plastic bag somewhere within the walls of the Southtown PD building. She swallowed hard as she stifled an almost overwhelming urge to vomit.

“I bet you have great legs...”

Vanessa’s comment immediately brought King back from the brink of a stream-of-consciousness-rape-trauma-fuckery-mini-breakdown. There was something about it, as well as the overall tone, that caught her completely off guard, which caused her to overfill the glass she was holding: Big Bad Baptist washed over her hand and noisily spilled all over the floor. She cursed as she carefully placed the overflowing beer down so she could reach for a roll of paper towels.

“Kingy?!”  
“It’s okay,” King answered as she stooped to wipe up the mess. “I’m fine.”

She glanced over her shoulder, first at a clearly horrified Mai, who mouthed the phrase, “I’m so sorry,” and then at Vanessa, who was staring right at her, lips curved upward in an amused smile. King turned away, a little mystified. Why was she looking at her like that? She stretched her arm to reach a few errant drops of beer that had landed off to the side… and was struck by the realization that her underwear was hanging out of the back of her jeans, completely visible to anyone who peered over the counter -- _especially_ to a certain redhead who just so happened to be sitting at a prime viewing angle. She flushed at the thought of Vanessa taking notice of her undergarments. Which pair was she even wearing, anyway? She had gotten dressed in a haze: she knew her bra was black (and probably _totally_ visible through her thin shirt…) but what the hell panties did she have on? Had she put on the simple burgundy and black hipsters? The grey ones? No… it was the absurd tacosaurus print. King slowly stood up and very subtly adjusted her waistband before pouring a new glass of beer.

“Her legs _are_ great.” Mai resumed the conversation. “Better than mine, even.”  
“I bet they are. You’ll have to show me one of these days,” Vanessa told King with a wink.

King briefly froze before she came to her senses and handed the drink over. Why did she… ? What did she mean by _that_?

“Here,” Mai started scrolling through her phone, “I have a picture of her in shorts, when we went to Dream a while back. Hang on -- let me find it.”  
“What picture?” King quirked a brow.  
“This one.”

Mai held up a photo of an absolutely drenched King, who was clad in a v-neck tee and denim shorts: her arms were crossed over her chest and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. It wasn’t the most flattering photograph, but her bare legs were visible, which was really all that mattered.

“Wow. You’re so...” Vanessa’s dark eyes flitted from the screen to King. “ _Wet_.”

King’s face flushed a deep scarlet as her mind briefly visited an _incredibly_ dirty place, because, evidently, she was a thirteen-year old boy. She didn’t know why she even went there; it was an innocent statement that had nothing to do with anything remotely up _that_ alley. She parted her lips to say something but found herself speechless as the suggestive lyrics to _Cherry Pie_ started swirling through her mind again. She spun on her heel, grabbed a bottle of Shiraz from the wine cooler, and poured herself a huge glass.

“Kingy has the worst luck on water rides,” Mai laughed.  
“Worst luck or not, those _are_ some nice legs!” Vanessa’s cadence was almost dreamy. “They’re so toned! And they look really smooth, too! I’m jealous -- mine are all skinny and pale.”  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your legs,” King replied.  
“You haven’t.”  
“We’ll have to fix that.”  
  
Mai stifled a giggle while King grimaced. Did she _really_ just say that? She fully expected Vanessa to punch her dead in the face, but, instead, she stood up and stretched her arms over her head.

“You know what? This stuff goes straight through me. Where’s the bathroom?”  
“Down that way, to the right,” King answered.  
“Thanks!”

The second Vanessa was no longer within earshot Mai leaned across the counter. She grabbed King and pulled her close.

“When did you get it so bad for her?!”  
“Is it… I mean… Is it obvious?”  
“YES! But It doesn’t matter! She’s giving off _major_ vibes!”  
“You’re imagining things.”  
“She’s been checking you out this whole time!”  
“You’re _definitely_ imagining things.”  
“Kingy. Do _not_ doubt my expertise in these matters. She’s obviously sending you signals!”

King sipped her wine while considering what Mai was telling her. Maybe she was right? Maybe Vanessa _was_ trying to get her attention for some reason. What would be the point, though? Yes, King was _very_ attracted to her, but she wasn’t in any sort of position to act on it. She was full of way too much chaos : too many thoughts bounced around in her head, some a little weirder than others.

“What are you thinking?” Mai was somewhere between curious and apprehensive.  
“If I wasn’t such a broken mess of a person I would probably want to sit on her face,” King responded, a little surprised at herself for thinking something like that, let alone saying it.

“You should _totally_ sit on her face!”  
“W-what?!”  
“From the looks of it, she wants you to! This could be your chance!”  
“My chance to _what_ ?!”  
“To let her see those legs of yours up close!”  
“Holy shit, Mai,” King gasped, her face an almost unsettling shade of bright pink, “I can’t just -- I’m not -- Even if I hadn’t been -- I’m just not into the idea of randomly going home with someone! A _married_ someone at that! I’m not that type of person!”

Mai hit King upside the head with a fan.

“OW! What the hell?!”  
“They’re taking a break!”  
“So?!”  
“So!? You said --”  
“I said if I _wasn’t_ a broken mess!”  
“It still counts!”

King hastily downed what was left of her wine in one gulp, embarrassed by where the conversation had ultimately gone, but also a little bothered.  
  
“You know, I feel like you and Mary are a little _too_ invested in whether or not I ever get laid again.”  
“That’s not it, Kingy. We just want you to --”  
“What? Feel _better_ ?” King leaned toward Mai and lowered her voice. “I was _raped_ ! Consensual sex with somebody isn’t going to act as some magic cure-all for… for _this_ ! And, damn it, I can have dirty thoughts _without_ wanting to be touched!”  
“But what about that thing with Sally? I thought you said --”  
“That was… it comes and goes.”

The two fell silent while King stared into her empty glass.

“Kingy, listen to me,” Mai started, “ You are smart, and beautiful, and strong, and no one is trying to make you do anything you don’t want to, or trying to upset you, but you at least owe it to yourself to maybe get to know her a little better! _Especially_ since she’s so interested in you! Now, do me a favour and have some more wine --”  
“On it,” King cut in as she poured a second glass.  
“-- and just… mellow out! Be the bi _queen_ that you are and maybe get her number! And then, when you’re _ready_ \--”  
“Please don’t say it.”  
“-- sit on her face!”

“Ooh! Sit on whose face?”

King and Mai both jumped at the sound of Vanessa’s voice. How the _fuck_ did King not notice her?! But, more importantly… how much of the conversation did she hear?!

“Andy!” Mai practically shouted. “Just talking about what I’m going to do to my Andy later!”  
“Uh-huh…”

Vanessa smirked while she lowered herself onto her stool.

“Mai is… very… open,” King said weakly. She felt like she was about to die from sheer discomposure.  
“That’s good! Being open and honest is so important! Especially when it comes to relationships,” Vanessa exclaimed.  
“ _So_ important,” Mai agreed. She shot King a mischievous grin as she stood up. “Speaking of relationships, I should go. Some _face sitting_ needs to happen.”

As King brought her wine glass up to her lips she shifted her grip on the stem so she could very subtly hold up her middle finger. Mai completely ignored the gesture; she turned her attention to Vanessa, and the two exchanged pleasantries (and phone numbers) while King continued to drink, thankful that her break would be over soon. The quicker she could get back to work, the quicker she could keep herself from thinking about rape, or legs, or swingin’ in the living room or swingin’ in the kitchen, or bathroom or --  
  
“Ganbatte, Kingy!”

Mai’s cheerful exclamation brought King out of her reverie. She blinked a couple of times before holding her hand up in a lackadaisical wave, all the while making a mental note to go _hard_ at their next sparring session. Nevertheless, it was just her and Vanessa now. She tried to tell herself that it was no big deal since they knew each other, but she was a different person when they met: outgoing and confident. Now, though… now she was self-deprecating and acerbic; unsure of herself. Sooner or later, Vanessa would notice the shift in her personality, and when she did…

“So, what time do you get off?”  
“G-get off?”

Vanessa’s question sent King to yet another less-than wholesome place. She hastily took a gulp of wine while wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

“Yeah,” Vanessa laughed. “Your shift -- when does it end?”  
“Oh. In about an hour.”  
“Do you mind if I wait around? I’m not ready to go home yet, and I’d really like to catch up with you.”  
“There’s really not... much… going on with me.”

Lies...  
  
“I beg to differ,” Vanessa asserted while she rested her hands on her chin. She leaned forward slightly, and King had to do everything in her power to keep her eyes from straying too far south.

“Anyway, maybe we can grab some food when you’re done. What do you say?”

King swallowed hard; she had to play it cool -- like the “old” her would. She downed the rest of her wine before offering a small smile.  
  
“Sure…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes because of course:
> 
> * There's a super subtle Mad Men reference in this chapter. If you can find it, awesome. You'll win... absolutely nothing.  
> * King hates making mojitos, as many bartenders do.  
> * Cherry Pie is a song by the hair band Warrant that came out in 1990 if I remember right. Anyway, look up the lyrics.  
> * It was pure coincidence that RobertCop and I had the same idea as to how King came to own Illusion at the tender age of twenty-four.  
> * The skirt Mai mentions is - obviously - directly related to Much Like Suffocating.  
> * Big Bad Baptist is an imperial stout that's around 12.7% alcohol by volume.  
> * Google "tacosaurus underwear." You won't be sorry.  
> * Ganbatte = good luck


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg. I've updated!
> 
> Not gonna lie, though - I'm not completely satisfied with how this chapter turned out, which is, like, the stupidest thing considering how long it took me to bang it out. Anyway, more notes at the end. Onward~

Instead of going to eat at the nearby diner King and Vanessa ended up staying at Illusion, where they grabbed some whimsical snacks and settled at a small table near the back of the area. King listened intently as Vanessa chatted about a variety of different topics, including her life as a housewife, her kid, and a weird occasion where she nearly got into a brawl over some cookware at her local Target. As amusing as it all was, King couldn't help getting the distinct impression that she was hiding something, though she had no idea of what it could have possibly been. Nevertheless, the conversation was beginning to slow, which meant it was only a matter of time before Vanessa started asking King questions about herself -- a prospect that made her intensely nervous despite how much alcohol was in her. She poked at her sorbet and tried her best to hide her anxiety over having to spin some tall tale about how great things were, but she didn’t think it was working.

“Man!”

Vanessa blew a strand of crimson hair out of her face and took a sip of ice water.

“I have done nothing but talk your ear off this whole time! Sometimes I start and don’t know when to stop. Anyway! How have _you_ been?”

King hastily stuffed a huge spoonful of sorbet into her mouth to buy herself a little time. Obviously she couldn’t tell Vanessa how she was _actually_ doing; she had to think of something that wouldn’t give away how seriously awful things were for her as of late. She swallowed the frozen dessert hard and exhaled.

“I’ve been… good,” King started. She nodded her head slowly. “Really… really… _good_ .”  
  
_Such_ a fucking lie.

“Just ‘good?’” Vanessa prodded.  
“Just good,” King replied. She took another bite of food while trying to act as casual as possible.  
“Hmm. You’ve never been much of a talker, huh?”  
“I’m just not very interesting.”  
“ _What_ ?!”  
  
At that, Vanessa slammed her hands flat on the table and leaned slightly forward, her eyes wide with disbelief.  
  
“You’re a crossdressing bartender who uses Muay Thai to kick ass! I’d say that’s _very_ interesting!”  
“I don’t know about that.”  
“I do! I bet there are all _sorts_ of cool things happening with you!”  
“Not... really...”  
“You’re telling me that someone young and gorgeous like yourself has _nothing_ going on?”

King felt heat creeping into her cheeks as she took another bite of sorbet. Despite her somewhat bedraggled appearance, Vanessa thought she was... “gorgeous?” _Vanessa_ thought _she_ was _gorgeous_?! (And interesting?!)

“It’s all just very…”

King trailed off as her thoughts suddenly wandered to her night in the ER after… _that_. The x-rays, the morphine… the pity in everyone’s eyes.

“... mundane.”

Vanessa frowned. She took another sip of her water before speaking again.

“I hope I’m not out of line, but you seem… I dunno. A little down...?”  
“No -- not at all!”

There was a pause as Vanessa looked King over. She placed a hand on her chin and squinted at her, obviously deep in thought.

“I know what it is,” she declared after a moment.

“...You do?” King asked, equal parts curious and horrified. The logical part of her knew that there was no way in _hell_ Vanessa had any idea of what was going on beneath the surface, but the other part of her -- the paranoid, self-doubting part -- was convinced that the woman across from her could _see_ how utterly disgusting, weak, and useless she was. King gripped the spoon in her hand, took a bite of dessert, and braced herself.

“It’s boy trouble!”

Taken aback by Vanessa’s answer, King almost spit out the sorbet that was in her mouth. The very idea of “boy trouble” was aggravating as hell! Why would anyone automatically assume that her woes were connected to a non-existent love life?! Especially _now_?!

...Then again, when she _really_ broke it down -- simplified it to its core -- “boy trouble” was technically kind of where a lot of her issues originated. She drove her spoon through the center of the frozen mound in front of her, a little bothered.

“It’s not a boy,” she said quietly, through gritted teeth.

(More like a monster.)

“A girl then?” Vanessa asked point blank, though her tone was cheerful.

King flushed, not entirely surprised by Vanessa’s question-slash-presumption, as people had a tendency to think she was the most aggressive lesbian to ever lesbian. Of course, that wasn’t _exactly_ the case, and though she was “out” she never made it a point to talk about or display her sexuality.

“N-no,” she stammered. “I’m… I’m not…”  
“Oh! Sorry,” Vanessa told her with a  grimace, “I thought maybe you were…! I have a bad habit of making assumptions about people.”  
“Well, I mean… I’m… I play for both teams.”

Vanessa smiled, noticeably relieved, but King could have sworn there was something more behind it. She averted her eyes; the wine must have been making her see things.

“So? _Is_ it girl trouble then?”  
“I’m not seeing anyone,” King answered quickly.  
“Now _that_ ! Is interesting!”  
“Why...?”  
“Why do you think? You’re a catch!”

King made a face: She was a damaged, sleep-deprived liar who couldn’t defend herself against the most pathetic of leg-breakers, which didn’t make her a catch by _any_ means. However, the fact that Vanessa thought she was made her feel something she couldn’t really identify. Good? Nervous? Embarrassed? She honestly didn’t know.

“Th-Thanks,” King mumbled. “You’re… not so bad, either!”  
  
...Dumbass.

Vanessa laughed then -- a real, _genuine_ laugh -- and it was somehow akin to angels singing.

“Well, thank you for saying that!”  
“I’m being honest,” King asserted. “You’re _stunning_ !”  
“Awww --” Vanessa sipped her water -- “You’re so sweet!”  
“You have no idea.”

King pressed her lips together, instantly frustrated with herself for making such a bizarre statement, but also a little bewildered by what Vanessa had just said. She didn’t think she had ever been referred to as “sweet” in her entire life; it was kind of weird. Céc Levasseur: Sweet. It just didn’t sound right.

It was still sort of flattering, though.

“...You don’t think so?”

“Not particularly,” King admitted as she began twirling her spoon between her fingers.

She took a deep breath; she needed to stop making such stupid comments or else Vanessa would begin to see the cracks in her facade. She chanced a quick glance across the table and was met by a piercing gaze that she was absolutely not expecting. As a result she dropped her spoon; it bounced off the table and landed on the floor with a loud clang.

King swore under her breath as she leaned down to pick up the utensil. What she didn’t realize was that Vanessa, too, had moved to retrieve the spoon: their fingertips touched, which made King’s heart skip a beat, but also elicited a weird fight-or-flight response; she instantly recoiled, which caused her to smack her head on the table as she scrambled to bring herself upright.

“PUTAIN!”  
“Are you okay?!”

Vanessa stood up and rushed over to King, who was so soul-crushingly embarrassed she could barely stand it. Could things possibly get any more awkward?!

It was as if the Universe heard King’s inner thoughts and considered that last one a challenge: Before she had a chance to react, Vanessa’s hands were on her head and in her hair, presumably feeling around for any swelling.

“It’s a little red, but there’s no bump or anything,” Vanessa observed. “Here, look at me.”

King held her breath as Vanessa placed a hand under her chin and gently raised her head so she could get a better look at her face, which made her pretty sure she was going to fucking _die_ . This was _not_ the way to get close to a beautiful woman.

“Your pupils aren’t dilated, either.”  
  
King didn’t know what to do or what to say or where to look. She pressed her lips together and made a sort of low humming sound in response.  
  
“Your eyes are such a lovely shade of blue.”

The off-handed remark caused King to quirk a brow. Eyes? Lovely? What?

“They-they are?”  
“Yeah! Everyone usually has light or bright blue, but yours are almost sapphire! I never noticed before.”  
“Fuh -- family trait,” King stammered.  
“Well, they’re _very_ pretty.”  Vanessa removed her hand from under King’s chin. “So! You’re not dizzy or nauseous or anything, are you?”  
“I’m fine.”

King furrowed her brow while she rubbed her head. She looked down at the floor, uncertain of what to say next.

“Hey, do you want to share an Uber?”  
“What?”

Vanessa chuckled as she pulled her phone from her pocket.  
  
“We’ve both had a couple of drinks,” she said while scrolling through her apps, “And you just clocked yourself pretty good. It’s probably not the best idea to drive.”  
“Oh. I was just going to walk.”  
“ _Alone_? This late?”  
“It’s not a big deal,” King answered nonchalantly, though she was actually screaming internally. “I do it all the time.”  
“ _You_ , Miss King, are _much_ braver than I am.”

King didn’t reply. Her relapse had sent deep seated fears about being out at all hours of the night to the forefront of her mind: Thoughts she had spent years suppressing, be it through sheer stubbornness, or, more recently, therapy techniques, came screaming back in full force. As a result she had spent the last two weeks avoiding closing shifts at all costs (though she had forgotten to account for her mid-shifts, which typically ended around ten PM). Not that it mattered, though; she had been abducted at gunpoint in the middle of a bright afternoon, in a good neighborhood, with plenty of bystanders around. Walking alone at night didn’t make her brave -- it made her stupid. (Or crazy, but she wasn’t going to touch _that_ one.)

“Hey, are you okay?” Vanessa inquired. “You look a little pale.”  
“I’m okay. I’m --”  
  
The text chime on King’s cell phone went off before she could finish speaking. Curious, she dug the gadget out of her pocket so she could see the message, which was from Mai. All it said was, “SOHF!!!!!”

King looked down at the screen, puzzled. What the hell was “SOHF” and why had Mai used so many exclamation points? Before she could give it too much thought another message immediately came in, and was comprised of nothing but emojis: a smiling face with drool coming out of its mouth, a tulip, and a tongue.

“ _Tu te fous de moi_?!”

King all but shouted at the device as the meaning of Mai’s strange acronym hit her like a ton of bricks.  
  
“Is everything alright?”

Vanessa peered down at King, her face screwed up with concern.

“Everything’s fine,” King croaked, her voice a little higher pitched than normal. She hastily crammed the phone back into her pocket, flustered, and jumped to her feet.

“I should go!”  
“Are you going to be okay though? That was quite a hit!”  
“Yeah, I… ...wanna -- do you wanna walk with me?” King impulsively asked. She instantly regretted saying anything, but she couldn’t stop herself from talking:

“You can catch a ride from my place. It -- it’s not far. I mean… if-if you want.”  
“I’d love to,” Vanessa answered enthusiastically.

King was both elated and mortified. She tried to smile but she had a feeling that she probably looked like she was in some kind of pain more than anything. Nevertheless, she motioned for Vanessa to go ahead of her: The older woman obliged, and King couldn’t help watching her hips sway as she walked. She covered her face with both hands as Cherry Pie once again started looping in her head.

“Qu’est-ce que j’ai fait,” she mumbled under her breath.

 

***

 

“This is it…”

After a largely uneventful stroll that consisted of minimal small talk, King opened the door to her apartment and flipped a nearby light switch, illuminating the open space. She made a face as she looked around. Normally very tidy, her residence had definitely seen better days: Unread mail and shopping bags full of non-perishable items that needed to be put away littered the entryway and dining room table; bowties, cufflinks, and earrings were scattered all over the place, and the coffee table was covered in empty candy wrappers and various papers. For some odd reason a fleece throw and a pair of cat hair covered pants were strewn across the floor, which needed to be vacuumed.

Depression was a hell of a drug.

“This is a big place,” Vanessa said while she looked around at the chaos, “You live alone, right?”  
“Sometimes my brother stays with me,” King replied. “On weekends or school breaks depending on my schedule.”

Just then King’s cat ran up to greet her as she emptied her pockets, meowing loudly as he approached. She immediately stopped what she was doing so she could scoop him up and cradle him like a baby.  
  
“Salut, Marron!” She pressed her forehead against his and sighed. “Tu m’as manqué…!”  
“Awwww!”

King pulled away from the cat to look at Vanessa, who was wearing a delighted grin.  
  
“Sorry. I’ve just never seen this side of you,” she said, “It’s cute.”  
“Thanks…?”

The reality of having Vanessa in her apartment hit King hard while she lowered Marron onto the floor. Her nerves began to go haywire, and, as a result, she strongly considered another glass of wine. Three in one night was probably really excessive, though. However, a glance at her guest sent her straight to the kitchen, where she snatched a half full bottle of rosé from the fridge.

“Would you like something to drink?” King called as she grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard.  
“I’m good, but thanks,” came the reply.

King quickly poured her beverage; she took several huge gulps in an attempt to calm her nerves before heading to the living room, where Vanessa had settled on the couch. She sat down next to her and awkwardly took another sip.

“This is a really comfortable sofa,” Vanessa noted.  
“My bed’s even better,” King responded without thinking. Her eyes widened and she began to turn an almost obscene shade of pink. Had she really just fucking said that?! Of all the stupid things she could have blurted out, it _had_ to be something that could absolutely be taken the wrong way! Vanessa was probably about two seconds away from punching her out. King held her breath as she hesitantly placed the glass on the coffee table.  
  
“You know, I’ve always admired your honesty.” Vanessa fixed her eyes on King, who was bracing herself for a haymaker.  
“It’s refreshing. My husband and I… our marriage has been full of so many secrets and lies. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.”  
“Secrets and lies,” King repeated dully.  
“It gets exhausting -- the lack of honesty,” Vanessa went on. “But you’ve always been really straightforward, and I admire that.”

King was almost positive she was going to go into cardiac arrest at any second. It was clear that this woman was on to her. She started to reach for her wine but Vanessa grabbed her wrist, stopping her dead.  
  
“Wha --?”  
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”  
“Two glasses.”  
“Counting this one?”  
“...Two and a half.”

There was silence as Vanessa moved King’s hand away from the glass. Their eyes met, and King felt a tightness in her chest that made her feel like she was about to implode. She furrowed her brow; the last thing she needed was to have some sort of panic attack because a beautiful woman whom she was _extremely_ attracted to was sitting in her apartment, looking into her allegedly very pretty eyes.

Without warning Vanessa kissed King, and King  -- who was _completely_ taken by surprise because since when was Vanessa into women?! -- started kissing her back, and she didn’t know if what she was doing was even right because taking a break was _not_ the same as being divorced but it didn’t matter because she was suddenly on her back, and Vanessa was right on top of her, kissing her passionately while reaching under her shirt.

King, meanwhile, moved almost as if she was on autopilot: she momentarily placed her hands on Vanessa’s waist before sliding them down to what had to be the most perfect ass in all of existence and pulled her closer. Her mind raced: Was she really doing this?! Was she really _going_ to do this?! Did she even want to? Vanessa pulled away to kiss her neck and in that exact moment the answer to those questions was a resounding yes. She let out a low, somewhat embarrassing moan (she _hated_ how she sounded during certain… activities) as Vanessa continued to work at her neck while moving her hand down the side of her body, her fingers warm (and maybe even a little ticklish) against King’s skin. She lingered on her waist for just a second before unclasping the button on her jeans.  
  
“Relax…!”

King’s breath caught in her throat as Vanessa gripped her waistband and began tugging her bottoms down. However, the second the fabric began to slip past her hips something in her mind snapped --  but not in a good way. The last time any of her clothing had been removed by somebody else it was forceful and violent. A torrent of horrible memories abruptly rushed back: the things he said, the smell of his cologne, the feel of him as he tore her to shreds. She quickly pushed Vanessa away and scrambled to her feet, panicked.

“Whoa! What’s the matter?!” Vanessa asked, alarmed, from her place on the sofa.  
“I can’t!” King shook her head back and forth. “Ican’tIcan’tIcan’t…!”  
“I’m sorry! Was I --?! What --”  
“You need to go,” King interrupted tearfully. “I’ll pay for your Uber…!”  
“ _What_?!”

Vanessa jumped up and carefully approached King, who instantly backed away.

“I didn’t… I don’t understand,” she said, “I thought you wanted to…?”  
  
King was unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a coherent thought in _English_. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to breathe, but she felt unbelievably nauseous. She wrapped her arms around herself as Vanessa stepped toward her once more.

“Hey,” she started gently, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything like that. We can just talk. Okay?”  
  
King hung her head; tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped onto the carpet.

“You’re okay, King. It’s okay.”  
“Non! Ce n’est pas okay,” King wailed, practically hysterical.  
“Hey…! Hey, it’s fine,” Vanessa said in a soothing tone, “I’m not going to… hurt…”

King looked up at Vanessa -- and instantly wished she hadn’t. The other woman was looking at her with the same goddamn look everyone else had given her when _it_ happened.

“Did something… did somebody _hurt_ you?”  
  
King let out a choked sob and nodded.

“Oh my god…! I’m so sorry! I didn’t --! If I had known I would have _never_ \--”  
“Please go.”  
“But I don’t wanna leave you like this…!”  
“Please,” King whimpered.

Vanessa, clearly at a loss, peered at King with borderline infuriating sympathy and left without a word.

As soon as the door closed King completely broke down. She sank to her knees, sobbing hysterically. She was so angry, and frustrated, and ashamed, and confused, and all sorts of other things she couldn’t pin down. As she pushed her hair out of her eyes her fingertips brushed against the small scar on her forehead -- yet another jarring reminder of the incident. She rose from her place on the floor so she could retrieve her cell phone from the table, her vision blurry from the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. As much as she didn’t want to bother anyone she knew that if she kept this to herself it would eat her alive. She opened her Favorites list and waited while the phone rang and rang and rang until --

“Bb?” Mary Ryan’s concern-filled voice issued from the speaker. King could practically _hear_ the frown on her face. “Bb, what’s the matter?”

King unsuccessfully tried to steady her breathing, but no matter what she did she just couldn’t stop herself from crying.  
  
“I-I’m freaking out…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen.
> 
> I don't know what you expected, but, like... this probably wasn't it, was it? Anyway, some notes:
> 
> * In KOF XIII King mentions that they serve sorbet at Illusion (versus Kula).  
> * If you're new here, you should know that King's real name in my continuity is Cécile Levasseur. Or Céc for short (which plays on the canon "Sis" her brother uses to address her.)  
> * Putain = Fuck  
> * "SOHF" = Sit On Her Face. Special thanks to jojoDo for the acronym.  
> * Tu te fous de moi = Are you kidding me  
> * A lot of King's fears about walking alone are a result of her fight against Jack Turner's Black Cats prior to the events of the first Art Of Fighting. Check out A Profound Impact for the deets on that event, which her therapist has resolved to help her work through.  
> * Qu'est-ce que j'ai fait = What have I done?  
> * Marron is French for brown, so it's safe to assume that the cat is a brown tabby. Also, "tabby" is not a breed, it's a colour pattern.  
> * Tu m'as manqué = I missed you  
> * I hope that the irony of Vanessa's statements about truth and honesty throughout this tale haven't been lost on anyone. Remember, she's leading a double life as a housewife and secret agent.  
> * Non! Ce n'est pas okay = No! It's not okay/Nothing is okay
> 
> Okay, that's it for now. Time to wait another forty-six years for me to update again. Where's it gonna go?! Bold of you to assume that I even know. See you next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the deal - some notes at the end. Quick reminder: Céc = short for Cécile.
> 
> Onward~!

"I'm  _such_  an idiot."

12:27 AM saw an intoxicated King laying sideways across her sofa with her head resting on Mary's lap, one arm dangling limply off to the side. She squinted blankly at the television, which was the only light source in the apartment.

"I had a shot at… something," she lamented while Mary lazily ran her fingers through her hair, "but I  _completely_  fucked it up."  
"You're not an idiot. You're just traumatized."  
"A traumatized idiot."  
"Aww, bb, don't say that!"  
"But it's the truth! Not only did I almost get with a  _married_  woman, but, for a second I thought…"

King trailed off as a lump started to form in the back of her throat.

"Thought what?" Mary asked.  
"Thought that I could… I'unno. Get that sunuva _bitch_  outta my head for once. Just be --" King flailed her arm -- "a  _person_  again!"  
"You still  _are_  a person. And, I mean, yeah -- it's gonna take a little more time befor --"  
"But I'm  _tired_  of everything taking  _time_! Time, time, time! It's been long  _enough_ , hasn't it?!"

King was silent for just a moment as her mood began to shift away from disappointed sadness. Bitterness and resentment rapidly set in, which lead to a new thought process that was probably maybe a little too personal but also, fuck it, because she was drunk and Mary was her friend so it would be fine if she just came out and said it because she was already thinking it anyway.

"... I should have done it out of  _spite_ ," she grumbled before letting out a loud sniffle.  
"What do you mean?" Mary asked carefully.  
"Just as a big 'fuck you' to… him. It would have been  _grand_!  _You_  didn't make me cum, but  _she_  did, so take  _that_!  _Asshole_!"

Mary stopped playing with King's hair, evidently perturbed by the statement.

"Okay, one: it --"  
"Wasn't about that, I know. It was about  _humiliation_. Inflicting  _pain_ , blah blah  _blah_!"  
"Right. And two, even if you had gone ahead with it, you'd have just ended up feeling bad about banging someone's wife."  
"Mary Ryan! La voix de la  _raison_!" King proclaimed while raising her fist into the air.  
"How much did you say you had to drink?"  
"Not enough. I should prob'ly get some vodka now."

King started to get up but Mary instantly pushed her back down.

"Nope. No more booze for you."

King groaned: On one hand, she was grateful that Mary was watching out for her (the last thing she needed was a serious hangover) but on the other, she was an adult, goddamnit, and if she wanted to drink more, that was her right! Her right as a flawed and... dirty... and... utterly repugnant...

All at once a  _massive_  wave of self-loathing washed over King. She hated herself for letting the things that happened happen and she hated herself for acting so foolish - for thinking that she could get past it - but she hated  _him_  more. She hated that, in the span of a few minutes, he reduced her to such a hopeless shell of a person. A hopeless, unlovable, unfuckable shell.

"Did I tell you what Vanessa said when she found out?" King asked miserably.  
"You did."  
"She  _said_  if she had known she 'would have  _never_.' She would have never laid a hand on me - probably because I'm too  _gross_."  
"I know her. I know she didn't mean it like that."  
"Wha'ever Mary," King sighed, "You're just trying to make me feel better, but I know that's  _exactly_  how she meant it."  
"Céc…"  
"How  _do_  you even know her so well, anyway?"  
"We… met through a case I was working."

King clumsily rolled over so that she was on her back. She glanced up at Mary, who looked a little uneasy, before momentarily shutting her eyes, which were starting to burn a little. She had a feeling that her makeshift pillow wasn't being completely honest with her, which kind of hurt, but grilling her while drunk probably wasn't the best course of action. It didn't really matter though because her thoughts swiftly drifted back to the situation at hand.

"You know, before all of…  _that_ … happened… I hadn't been with anyone in a couple o' _years_ ," she began.

Mary opened her mouth to respond but King quickly moved her hand up and over her head, toward her friend's mouth in an attempt to shush her.

"Don't say her name."  
"Okay but get your hand outta my face."  
"The point  _is_  --" King did as she was told and held up her index finger -- "I never really thought about it. I didn't  _need_... to do…  _any_  of  _that_!"  
"You still don't."  
"But I  _think_... I actually  _wanted_  to! Vanessa's so  _hot_ , and she was so  _into_  it…! And, we were  _really_  close! But she's still  _married_... And now she knows about…  _things_ … and she thinks I'm helpless and  _disgusting_."  
"Oh, bb," Mary said gently, "She doesn't think less of you because of it."  
"But  _I_  think less of me," King exclaimed. She unsteadily sat up, suddenly furious, as she recalled every mistake she made that day.

"I should have done  _more_  to stop him! I should have broken  _more_  than just his nose! Mais  _non_! Instead of kicking every square inch of his ass right when he approached me I - If I had just turned  _around_  maybe I wouldn't have even been gra -"  
"Don't go down this road," Mary interrupted. "You know you did everything you could --"  
"I didn't do  _shit_!"  
"You  _did what you cou_  --"  
" _I_.  _didn't_.  _do_.  _shit_ ," King repeated savagely. She buried her face in her hands, almost overwhelmed by the sheer negativity of her emotions, and made a loud, angry noise. She unintentionally flinched when Mary placed a soothing hand on her back.

"Bb --"  
"Don't," King croaked as she uncovered her face, "Don't try to make me feel better. There's  _nothing_  you can say."  
"I know," Mary acknowledged. With that, she grabbed King and pulled her into a tight hug. "But I'm still here to listen to your drunk ass talk about whatever it is you need to talk about for as long as you need to talk about it."

That was the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's back: King's rage was instantly snuffed out as she burst into tears yet again. Mary was so nice, and so supportive, and such a good friend, and King didn't know what she would do without her.

"I love you," she blubbered between sobs.  
"Ditto," Mary replied. She gently shook King before pushing her hair out of her face. "I think it's time for you to sleep. Do you wanna sleep now?"

King slowly nodded.

"Come on."

Mary walked King, who was surprised by how gone her balance actually was, to her bedroom, where she started climbing into bed.

"What kind of chaotic evil shit is this?" Mary inquired as she turned on a lamp. "At least take off your pants."  
"I love it when you talk dirty to me," King joked despite the fact that tears were running down her cheeks.  
"Just do it."

King awkwardly peeled off her skinny jeans (Mary had to help keep her steady) and haphazardly tried to kick them across the room. Unsurprisingly she missed. She scowled down at the discarded clothing; how dare the stupid thing dodge her maneuver like that?! A wayward chuckle brought her attention back to Mary, who was giggling madly.

"The tacosauruses?! You were going to get busy with  _those_  on?!"  
"I think she saw them when I was bending over and I think she  _liked_  'em," King said as she crawled under her covers.

And, just like that, Vanessa was on her mind again: Their awkward conversations, and the things that almost happened between them, and the look in her eyes when she saw King breaking down like the emotional wreck she was. How on earth could she possibly face her after all of that?

"You're thinking about her again."

Mary sat down at the foot of the bed; she placed a hand on King's ankle, a huge frown on her face.

"How did you…?"  
"I'm a detective.  _And_  your totally platonic lady love," Mary asserted with a tilt of her head. "I know how you think."  
"Okay, Professor X," King sniffled while she bunched her pillow up under her head, "How can I even…? What the  _hell_  can I  _say_  to her?"  
"Don't think about this when you're drunk. Wait until you're sober, okay?"  
"But I'm thinking about it  _now_."  
"Worry about it in the morning."  
"...okay," came King's groggy reply.  
"Will you be alright?"  
"Mm-hm."

Mary patted King's leg before standing up. She looked down at her, thoughtful, for what felt like it might have been a little too long before finally shutting off the lamp.

"See you later," she said as she walked out of the room.  
"Bye."

King sighed as her muddled thoughts wandered right back to Vanessa.

 

###

 

It was nearly three hours later when King bolted upright in her bed. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she frantically looked around the dark room, a little dazed, but thoroughly unnerved. She placed a hand on her aching head and sucked air in through her teeth while squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to get her bearings, but the entire place was slowly rocking back and forth like a bad carnival ride.

Predictably, King's dream had been awful and strange: She had found herself pinned against the pool table at Illusion, badly hurt and struggling for air as she was forced to tell  _him_  some of the filthiest things she could think of in her native language. She turned away after making a particularly graphic statement -- and saw Vanessa sitting at the bar, casually reading a magazine.

King remembered screaming for help but her pleas fell on deaf ears as Vanessa just sat there, engrossed in an article. Every now and then she looked up so she could make snide comments about how mediocre King was: her fighting skills meant nothing; she couldn't protect herself, let alone her little brother; she was nothing more than a jizz receptacle...

Suddenly queasy, King dashed to the bathroom, where she vomited several times. When she was done she sat back against the wall and pushed her hair out of her face, disturbed by the scene her subconscious had painted for her. Vanessa's presence was  _horrifying_ : seeing her there -- hearing her say those things -- was like being stabbed in the gut over and over again.

King slowly rose to her feet, legs wobbly,  _definitely_  still tipsy. She held onto the wall as she made her way to the living room to find her phone, which she had left on the table. She knew that doing anything other than checking the time would be a terrible idea in her state, but she couldn't help it. She had to do… something. Anything to try to get that nightmare out of her head. She plucked the gadget from its place and double-tapped the screen so she could check the time, only to be greeted by a notification banner informing her that there was a text message from Vanessa. It had come in hours before -- maybe while she was sleeping? -- and simply read:

"Are you okay?"  
"Non~" King lazily sang out loud as she unlocked the phone. She stared down at the bright screen until the words became blurry, all the while wondering if she should text Vanessa back. After all, they were going to have to talk anyway; maybe if she sent a message now, she could get ahead of the game. Then again, trying to type would probably be a nightmare.

...Calling would be  _much_  easier.

Although fairly certain she was making a mistake, King tapped the tiny little receiver icon at the top of the screen… and  _immediately_  had a change of heart. She hung up as quickly as she could, hoping that she was able to end the call before it even connected.

After several tense seconds, she placed the phone down, relieved that --

" _SHE'S MY CHERRY PIE; A COOL DRINK OF WATER SUCH A SWEET SURPRISE_ ~"

King jumped back, startled: She didn't remember setting a ringtone for Vanessa, let alone that one. Mary must have done it before she left, the cheeky minx. Nevertheless, King stared at her phone in abject terror while Warrant screamed into the apartment. With a shaking hand she used the slider to answer the call. As she brought the device up to her ear she tried to think of something casual, something cool to say, but, instead, she sputtered the very first thing that came to mind:

"I'm  _drunk_."  
"Hi, drunk," Vanessa replied, her voice tired but oddly cheerful for someone who had just been woken up at such a crazy hour. "What can I do for you?"

At that, King froze. What  _could_  Vanessa do for her? She stood, slack jawed, as she tried to think of a sensible response. However, her befuddled brain had other ideas.

"You can come back and we can finish what we started but that would be the biggest cliché, wouldn't it? Céc drunk dials a  _married_  woman for sex she can't even have because somebody, well… somebody did some  _horrible_  things so now I guess I can't… do…  _that_ … and it's really stupid because I should be able to just…  _do_  it, right?"  
"...Céc?" Vanessa asked, clearly a little confounded.  
"It's French for  _idiot_ ," King quickly answered. She placed a hand on her head and willed herself to find a way to end the call before she started blabbering on again. She opened her mouth to start talking some more but was stopped by Vanessa's angelic laughter.

"I take it you finished off that wine?"  
"Nuh -- no. Yes."

King furrowed her brow, a little uncertain of what was even going on. She tried to think back: she had a  _really_  bad dream... so she threw up… and now she was on the phone… with Vanessa, whom she had no business talking to at this hour. Or maybe even  _ever_  after the way she --

"...King? Are you still there?"  
"Je suis trop bourré pour gérer ça…!" King stated very seriously.  
"I'm sorry, but I only took one semester of French, and it was all the way back in junior high," Vanessa replied. "Can you tell me that in English?"  
"Je - yeah.  _English_! Yeah. I was… What was I  _saying_?"

Vanessa laughed again, which elicited a small, somewhat nervous giggle from King, who was still a little lost.

"I think you were saying that we should get together and talk," Vanessa said. "What are you up to tomorrow?"  
"I'm off."  
"Then, how about… we meet up at Pao Pao? Around four?"  
"Yeah…" King nodded, but the motion made her feel a little sick again. "We can… we can do that."  
"Are you going to remember this in the morning? Should I text you?"  
"Wouldn't hurt."  
"Awesome!"

King heard the sound of fabric rustling around before Vanessa spoke again.

"Hey -- I'd like you to do something for me."  
"S'asseoir sur ton visage?"

King's heart dropped out of her chest as she gripped her phone tightly, appalled at herself for saying that, but also incredibly thankful that she had at least said it in French. She held her breath while heat rapidly crept up her neck and into her cheeks, convinced that Vanessa was going to reveal that she did, in fact, understand what King said before crawling out of the phone with the express purpose of murdering her.

"If that means drink some water, then, yes, I'd like you to do exactly that," came Vanessa's friendly response.  
"O-okay," King stammered.  
"Now, do it because it's very important, and go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow -- at four."  
"Y-yeah. See you tomorrow..."

Several low beeps sounded, letting King know that Vanessa had hung up. She exhaled loudly as she entered the kitchen and turned on the lights so she could get her water. She was glad that she had (barely) survived the conversation without making  _too_  much of a fool out of herself, but she still had their planned meeting to get through. She poured her drink and lowered herself onto the floor with her back against the freezer: Marron sauntered over, purring loudly, and began headbutting her hand as she drank.

"Here," she murmured as she held the cup out toward the cat. She raised her eyebrows when he eagerly stuck his entire face directly into it.

"Ahhh, Marron…"

The cat freed himself from the cup and rubbed against King's arm. She stared down at a single hair that was floating in the water.

"Je suis... un putain de  _désastre_ ," she groaned before gulping the rest of the liquid down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, some more notes for your reading pleasure:
> 
> * King and Mary are bros. Deal with it.  
> * La voix de la raison = the voice of reason  
> * King's last relationship was a bit of a mess...  
> * For anybody who needs a reminder in regards to the events of Much Like Suffocating: King is approached by the driver and breaks his nose before she's grabbed from behind by his accomplice, the gunman.  
> * Mary referring to King wearing jeans to bed as chaotic evil: there's a sleepwear alignment chart floating around on tumblr; those who sleep in jeans are classified as chaotic evil  
> * "Professor X": The leader of the X-Men and a very powerful mind reader.  
> * Non = no  
> * The ringtone Mary set for Vanessa is Cherry Pie by Warrant, which King kept on getting stuck in her head in previous chapters  
> * Je suis trop bourré pour gérer ça = I'm too drunk to process this  
> * S'asseoir sur ton visage? = Sit on your face?  
> * Cat owners. That's it.  
> * Je suis... un putain de désastre = I am... a fucking disaster
> 
> Omg, you guys. Where's this going?! Hopefully you'll stick around to find out! Cheers~!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little over a month later and we finally have an update, folks!

It was an oddly cool 63 degrees and cloudy when King pulled into an outdoor parking lot located down the street from the Pao Pao Café. She sluggishly went through the motions of exiting her car and paying for parking at the nearby kiosk, all the while wondering why the Motrin she had taken for her headache hadn't kicked in yet. She slowly made her way to the well-known haunt, hands in the pockets of her hoodie, brow furrowed as it started to sprinkle, and wondered what she was getting herself into. After all, each interaction with Vanessa the night before had been disastrous at best. What was she going to say? Somehow she didn't think, "Sorry I completely freaked out when you tried to take off my pants and then drunk dialed you a few hours later," would be particularly acceptable.

King approached the entrance to the building and started to pull the door open but immediately stopped herself: If the establishment's owner, Richard Meyer, or his protégé, Bob, saw her they would no doubt want to talk shop - something she absolutely was not in the mood for. With that in mind she carefully pulled her thin hood over her head before ducking inside. She looked around the area, which wasn't terribly crowded (yet), and immediately spotted Vanessa, who, predictably, looked dazzling even though she was clearly dressed down for the day: Clad in strategically ripped jeans and a long-sleeved top, she sat at a table for two near one of the many plants that decorated the place. Her bright hair, which hadn't been straightened, fell in wavy clusters around her face, which went from bored to enthusiastic as King approached.

"Hey, you," Vanessa said with a smile, "What's with the disguise?"

"It's not a disguise. I just don't want anyone coming up to me when I have more pressing matters to attend to," King answered as she carefully slid into the seat across from the other woman, who was watching her intently.

"'Pressing matters?'"  
"Well… yeah," King mumbled.  
"Mm. So how are you feeling?"  
"I'm… I have a headache.  
"All that wine," Vanessa remarked.  
"Yeah."

King folded her hands together and sat with her back rigid, completely at a loss for words while Vanessa scanned the drink menu. What should she say? There was so much on her mind; where should she even _start_?! Should she apologize for the drunk dial or the egregious flip out first? What sort of explanation could she offer for either one? What if difficult questions about her trauma came up? Then what? She placed a hand on her head: When. the hell. was that Motrin. going. to kick. in?

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I ordered some loaded fries for us to share," Vanessa said as she set the drink menu aside. "I wasn't sure if you were still doing the vegetarian thing, so I told them to leave the bacon bits off."

Although unsure of whether or not she even had the drive to eat, King was touched by Vanessa's consideration. She offered a small but genuine smile.

"Thanks," she replied. "I, um… I broke my diet but I'm trying to get back to it, so that will be helpful."  
"You did? What happened?"  
"I ate a piece of Mary's bacon in a fit of rage."

Vanessa immediately started laughing. After a moment she stopped and quirked a brow.

"You're serious?"

King nodded and let out a tiny chuckle as the absurdity of her statement really set in.

"You know, Mary speaks very highly of you," Vanessa commented.  
"She does?" King made a face. Why would _anyone_ speak highly of her? Especially _now_?  
"Of course! It sounds like you two are pretty close…?"  
"She kneecapped my rapist."

King threw a hand over her mouth, astonished by her own disclosure as Vanessa's eyes went wide. She slowly placed her aching head in her hands while trying to make sense of why her impulsivity always, always, _always_ came out at the absolute worst times, and why it almost always involved her spilling some kind of personal detail she wanted to keep under wraps. She supposed it didn't matter: Vanessa had already guessed that something happened to her so there was no use trying to pretend otherwise. (Not in front of her, anyway.)

"That's… umm. You asked if someone…"

King folded her hands together once more and took a deep breath. She fixed her eyes on her thumb nails (the light polish was terribly chipped) and cleared her throat before speaking again.

"Last night you asked if someone hurt me," King dictated, her voice a little shaky. "Someone did. So Mary hurt him back."  
"And... you...?"  
"I… I couldn't...!"

Vanessa reached across the table and placed her hand over King's.

"You don't have to say anything else. Not if you don't want to."

At that moment a young waiter came to the table with a tray that held two glasses of ice water and the loaded fries Vanessa had mentioned. It was clear that he picked up on the heaviness that hung over the pair, as he _very_ hastily placed everything down and took off before Vanessa could even order a beer.

"I'm sorry," King said quickly.  
"What? Why?"  
"Because I called you, drunk --"  
"You actually remember it?"  
" -- and I freaked out when --"  
"Listen, you have _nothing_ to apologize for, "Vanessa said as she squeezed King's hands. "If anything _I_ should be the one saying sorry. If I had known about what you've been through I wouldn't have --"  
"Yeah, I know," King interrupted, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You wouldn't have bothered. I'm too _damaged_."

King winced, not just because of her own words, but because the pain in her head was actually _increasing_. That fucking Motrin only had one job…!

"Do you really think that?" Vanessa inquired, her voice full of disbelief. "That you're 'damaged?!'"  
"I don't _think_ it," King answered, "I _know_ it. What... _he_... did -- it _broke_ something."  
"Then let's fix it."  
"It can't be fixed."  
"Of course it can…!"

Vanessa reached across the table and gently pushed the hood off of King's head.

"Sorry, but I feel like I'm talking to a Jedi or a Sith Lord or something," she said as she moved a lock of hair away from King's face. She frowned when she caught sight of the small scar on her forehead.

"Pistol," King stated numbly. She looked away while Vanessa gently ran her thumb across the imperfection. "And then a wall."

The two were quiet as Vanessa slowly moved her hand down along King's face. She cupped her cheek and looked directly into her eyes.

"You're not damaged," she affirmed as she drew closer. "You're strong. And if you say anything negative about yourself again I'm going to punch you."

Before King could respond Vanessa's lips were pressed against hers -- which was certainly one way to get her to shut up about how awful she was. However, as much as she wanted to enjoy the kiss she just couldn't do it. What she was doing wasn't _right_ ; Vanessa was still _married_! It didn't matter if her and her spouse were on some sort of break -- it couldn't happen. King's better judgment was not winning, though: she slowly parted her lips and actually began to relax as the other woman slipped her tongue into her mouth. She eagerly kissed her back, and the thought of getting out of there and trying… _that_ … again entered her mind. Where would they go? Would she even be able to go through with it? Traumatic experience aside, sex without love was practically a foreign concept to her. King hastily pulled away, her breath ragged, and ran her hands through her hair. She grabbed her water and started gulping it down.

"What's the matter?" Vanessa asked.  
"We can't -- we can't do this," King answered as she placed the glass down.  
"Why not?"  
"You're married and I'm a mess!"  
"Do you really think I'd be here if that was a problem?"  
"Okay, fine, fair point. But I'm -- I don't think I'm ready for something like… _this_ ," King gesticulated vaguely. "What… what even _is_ this?!"

Vanessa leaned forward, an almost seductive smile on her face.

"It's whatever we need it to be."

King swallowed hard; Jesus Christ that answer was hot. Despite her reservations, she closed the distance between herself and Vanessa this time. A little unsure of what the hell was even going on in her own head she fervidly kissed her companion, but she couldn't help thinking that everything was wrong and weird. Hell, _she_ was wrong and weird… but in that instance she almost desperately wanted to --

" _King_?!"

The shocked voice of Robert Garcia abruptly snapped King back to her senses. Startled, she pulled away from Vanessa and wiped some lipstick off of her mouth before clearing her throat.

"Ruh-Robert! Um, hey! What are you doing... here?"  
"I could ask you the same question," came Robert's answer.  
"Hey, Garcia --" Vanessa quickly greeted the newcomer -- "It's been awhile, huh?"  
"Hey girl!"

Vanessa and Robert amicably bumped fists before he turned his attention back to King and wrinkled his nose.

"Damn, dude, you look like shit."  
" _What_ are you _doing_ here?" King repeated her question, a little irritated.  
"I'm supposed to meet up with Ryo to watch the fight."

At that, King pressed her lips together. Ryo Sakazaki was an interesting one: The brother of her good friend and on-again-off-again teammate, Yuri (who just so happened to be Robert's girlfriend), Ryo was an enemy turned friend turned drunken masturbatory material (just once!) turned back to friend who had ridiculously nice eyes and looked good with facial hair. Although King hated to admit it there was a point where she had felt some physical attraction toward him, and, for awhile, thought she might have even been catching feelings, but that weirdness had long since passed. Unfortunately, unusual anxieties about what he thought of her still periodically entered her mind -- especially in the wake of her assault, which she had no intention of ever telling him about. Old-fashioned and maybe even a bit prudish, he would probably have a conniption fit if he saw her making out with another woman -- in public, no less. She nervously grabbed a handful of the loaded fries, which had gotten a little cold, and crammed them into her mouth as she looked around the area, her face bright pink.

"Seriously though, you look pretty rough," Robert commented. "Sleeping okay?"

Before King could answer Ryo suddenly popped up beside Robert, his expression full of dismay.

"Wow, King! You look like shit!"  
"What the hell, Sakazaki?!" Vanessa exclaimed. "That's no way to greet someone! You should both be ashamed! Apologize to her!"  
"It's fine," King spoke up. "These two assholes are always like that."  
"Hey, us 'assholes' are your friends," Ryo told her. "And, as such, it is our _job_ to be honest with you."  
"You can be honest without being rude," Vanessa chimed in, clearly irked.  
"It really _is_ fine," King assured her. "Really."  
"...Okay."

Robert loudly cleared his throat while he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, Van," he said conversationally, "How's your husband doing?"  
"He's fine," came Vanessa's reply. "We're on hiatus at the moment."  
"Hiatus?"  
"Yeah. It sucks, but it's okay. I think I've found something of a silver lining."

With that, Vanessa winked at King, who couldn't help displaying what she could only imagine was the stupidest smile to ever stupid.

"What's with _that_ face, King?" Ryo questioned.  
"What face?"  
"You're doing that thing you do when... "

Ryo abruptly stopped talking as he seemed to have some kind of epiphany.

"Are you two --? Are you on a _date_?! Are you dating?!"  
"'Dating,' is putting it mildly, bro," Robert said with a snicker.  
"Shut. Up," King grumbled.  
"Is that an issue for you guys?"

Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest, her expression curious but also indignant.

"Well, uhhh no," Ryo answered, "It's just… unusual."  
"I legitimately thought King was asexual," Robert added.  
"You're an idiot," King stated flatly. She pressed her lips together, her head still pounding, and glanced at Vanessa, who was considering her with mild concern.

"This is actually really great," Ryo proclaimed as he excitedly clapped his hands together.  
"It is?" Vanessa raised her eyebrows.  
"Pffft, yeah! Maybe you can help her loosen up! Not in a weird way, or anything, but --"  
"Are you kidding?!"

Robert grabbed Ryo's shoulders and moved him out of the way.

"Get as weird about it as you want! The weirder the better if it can fix our royal highness's perpetual crankiness!"  
"I'm not cranky...!"  
"You're officially insane if you think that," Ryo said pointedly. "Ever since the mono thing you've been really moody."

King immediately tensed up at the mention of the lie she made up to hide the fact that she was attacked all those months ago. She swallowed hard as Vanessa asked, "Mono?"

"Yeah," Ryo explained, "She caught mono awhile back and was sick for, like, a month. She didn't tell - King, you didn't tell her? That's how she got that scar on her head - she fell down and lost a fight with the corner of the table."

"I see," Vanessa said slowly. "That must have hurt."  
"It… was...really bloody," King stammered. She shuddered as she recalled the sickening feeling of the nurse gingerly peeling her hair away from the split, bloody skin so she could apply antiseptic and gauze.

"King?"

Ryo stooped down to peer into her face. She held her breath; those goddamn hazel eyes were right on her, surely about to see through all of her bullshit.

"You _really_ don't look so hot. Are you --"  
"I need to go," King cut him off. "I'm a little sick right now and if I don't -- I might... "  
"O-oh. Okay. Are you good to drive?"  
"Y-yeah," King nodded while she rose from her seat. She turned to Vanessa while pulling cash out of her wallet. "For the fries. Ummm… Do you need a ride?"  
"Only if it's not a problem for you…?"  
"It's no problem. Bye guys."

King promptly walked out of the building, not even bothering to wait for Vanessa to catch up with her. Once outside she raised her face toward the grey sky and let out a shaky breath before starting toward the parking lot down the street. Several moments passed before Vanessa jogged up beside her.

"Hey! What happened?"

King sighed as she continued walking.

"I told everyone that I caught mono from sharing a straw with Mai. The story is I collapsed at home, hit my head on the coffee table, and was diagnosed at the hospital. Everyone's always teasing me about it now, but it's better than… than the alternative. I just… felt like I had to get out of there. I'm sorry."

Vanessa shook her head as she accompanied King through the parking lot.

"As someone who knows a thing or two about cover stories, that's actually a really good one," she acknowledged in a somewhat far off tone.

King briefly peered over at Vanessa before unlocking her car; curious, but also somewhat puzzled by her statement. The two women quietly climbed into the vehicle; Vanessa adjusted the seat to accommodate her tall frame while King placed her cellphone in the cup holder.

"So --" Vanessa drew the word out as she buckled in -- "Not even the Kyokugens know…?"  
"Yuri knows, but her family and Robert don't."  
"But I thought you guys were all super tight?"  
"We are. But if they found out… It's… It wasn't a completely random act of violence - there's a lot of bad blood. Past mistakes… things that --"

King stopped herself mid-sentence. She wasn't exactly forthcoming about her past working as an enforcer for a crime lord: saying she was an ex-bouncer was one thing; saying she was a reformed criminal was another, so she (along with the Sakazakis and Mary) kept it as quiet as possible. It was a detail about her past that no one needed to know - and certainly not Vanessa. She took a deep breath as she carefully thought about what to say next. She furrowed her brow, ready to resume speaking, but her passenger beat her to the proverbial punch.

"I know about Big."

Caught off guard by the unexpected remark, King did a double take. At first she wondered if she had heard correctly, but one peek at Vanessa's troubled expression told her that she was most definitely not suffering from auditory hallucinations.

"Wha - what...?"

"Your name is Cécile Levasseur, and you were a member of Mr. Big's syndicate," she started. "You and your brother came to Southtown when you were sixteen -- after your father died -- to live with your aunt and uncle. But your brother's condition got worse and you needed money, so you posed as a man to get the bouncer job at L'Amour, and you got mixed up in Big's affairs. You did some very bad things to people of… questionable morality… and you played a part in the kidnapping of Yuri Sakazaki. You went to the cops after your run in with Ryo and Garcia, and your confession helped bring Big and his cronies down."

"What… what the hell --?!" King sputtered incredulously.

She held on to the steering wheel, hands shaking, and stared at the woman next to her, wide-eyed and in some degree of shock, but also angry. How did she know these things?! Her name, her past… Did Mary tell her?! No… Mary wouldn't do that - she would _never_ betray her trust. So, how…?

"It wasn't Mary -- if that's what you're thinking."  
"Then who?! _How_?!" King exclaimed.  
"I… have connections," Vanessa replied.  
"What the _fuck_ does _that_ mean?!"  
"It means… I've been leading a double life. I'm a housewife but I'm also a -- god, you're going to think this is ridiculous -- secret agent for hire."  
" _What_?!"  
"I had Seth -- you know him, right? -- help me do some digging," Vanessa continued, "He's really good at that stuff."

King stared, mouth agape while she tried to process what she was just told. Oddly enough it only took a second to set in (she had seen and heard crazier things), but when it did it felt like a huge slap in the face. It was bad enough that her body had been violated, but, now, her privacy had been as well - and it made her _furious_.

"' _Digging_?!'" King practically yelled. "My name, my past -- things I don't want people to know for a reason! You guys dredged it all up with no regard for --"  
"I _know_ it was a shitty thing to do, and I'm sorry. I guess I just wanted to know more about you."

Vanessa's admission made King pause: it sounded innocent enough; she could tell there was no malicious intent behind the blatant invasion of privacy. However, something occurred to her then -- something that had the potential to make or break the budding relationship.

"Did you know…?"  
"Know what?"  
"About… about what happened to me. Did your little background check turn that up, too?!"

Vanessa pushed some hair out of her face and sighed.

"We were able to access your recent medical records, yes, but I thought that going through them was a little too much."  
"'A little too much….'"

Although somewhat relieved that Vanessa and her confidant at least had the decency to not ransack her medical history, King gripped the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles started to change colour. She took a deep, steadying breath that was meant to help her keep her composure, lest her problematic temper get the better of her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to fly off the handle.

"This is the part where I tell you to get the fuck out of my car," she said in a low, dangerous tone.  
"Listen. I know you're upset -- you have every right to be --"  
"No shit!"  
"-- but I'm telling you this because I want you to trust me."  
" _Trust you_?! Do you realize how fucking stupid that sounds?! You went behind my back when all you had to do was ask me whatever you wanted to know!"  
"Would you have really told me, though?"

A loaded silence set in, with King staring straight ahead, her hands aching from how tight she was holding the wheel, and Vanessa fidgeting with a hole in her jeans.

"...Cécile."  
"You don't get to call me that."  
"I'm sorry."

King loosened her grip on the steering wheel; she pressed her lips together so hard it hurt as she adjusted herself so she could look at Vanessa, who was reaching for the door handle. She really couldn't explain why, but all at once she felt like letting her walk out would be a huge mistake.

"Wait."

Vanessa turned, a quizzical expression on her face.

"Huh?"  
"...where am I taking you?"  
"What? I -- are you sure --"  
"I can still change my mind," King snapped. "But for now… where are we going?"  
"...North City Valley."

King couldn't keep her eyes from widening: North City Valley was a very high-class suburb -- the type of high-class where the men obsessively maintained their lawns and smoked Arturo Fuente cigars while their trophy wives wore expensive jewelry and casual racism. There had never been any doubt in King's mind that Vanessa had money but it never occurred to her that she had _that_ much money. Then again, moonlighting as an operative on top of whatever the hell her husband did probably brought in all kinds of disposable income.

"...King?" Vanessa questioned while hesitantly placing a hand on her arm.  
"Don't fucking touch me."

King waited for Vanessa to unhand her before starting the car. She was so hurt and frustrated; she didn't get why she was even going to bother taking this woman anywhere after what she did. Completely at a loss for words she turned the volume on the stereo up and maneuvered her vehicle out of the small lot.

###

 

Not even fifteen uncomfortable minutes later King pulled up to a fairly large modern style house that looked like something out of a _Better Homes & Gardens_ photo spread. Focusing on the music during the drive had helped her calm down a little, but she was still really torn about Vanessa's intrusive actions. Sure, it was harmless in the grand scheme of things, but there was something about having every detail of her life pulled out of… wherever the hell the info came from… that was highly unsettling. She turned the stereo down and chanced a quick glance at Vanessa, whom she hadn't even looked at since before the ride started. She was met by a keen gaze that sort of made her want to melt into her seat.

"Do… you want to come in?"

Vanessa's tone was open, earnest - it almost caused King to short circuit. She cleared her throat while averting her eyes.

"I don't want to intrude," she replied tersely.  
"No one's home," Vanessa said as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Besides. I think you and I still have a few things to talk about…"  
"I don't know about that."  
"King…"  
"Let me guess," King said while fixing her eyes on the dashboard, "You're sorry. You didn't mean to pry."  
"I _am_ sorry -- truly. But if you had the means to get extensive information on someone you were highly interested in, wouldn't you?"

King narrowed her eyes: If she could pull up all the information on someone she wanted she definitely would; to pretend otherwise would be silly -- and an outright lie. In spite of her displeasure with Vanessa she put the car in park and shut the engine off.

"Why are you so interested in me, anyway?" She asked as she climbed out of her vehicle.  
"There's just a certain… something about you that makes it hard to not want to get to know you. You're fascinating."

King scoffed as she made her way up the porch. She crossed her arms and waited until Vanessa unlocked the door before she replied.

"But I'm really not."  
"But you really are."

Once inside Vanessa removed her shoes and King quickly took her lead; she slipped her boots off, placed them neatly against the entry wall, and took in her surroundings as she pulled herself upright: The large foyer lead into an even larger, cozy living room with recessed lighting and a very large OLED television. There were a few children's books and toys in a basket in one corner, and a stack of catalogs sat on the coffee table.

"Would you like a drink?" Vanessa called as she entered a spacious kitchen that looked like it had never even been used.  
"I'm driving, remember?"  
"I meant something like juice or water…?"  
"Oh."

King made a face as she lowered herself onto a stool in front of a large, granite island. She placed her elbows on the smooth surface and held her breath as Vanessa grabbed a carton of orange juice and a bottle of beer from the refrigerator.

"Is this okay?"  
"Y-yeah, thank you."

There was more silence between the two as Vanessa poured King's drink and opened her beer. She slid the orange juice across the island before holding up her bottle.

"A toast" she said with a smirk.  
"To what?"  
"Honesty."

The corners of King's mouth involuntarily turned upward.

"...bitch," she mumbled into her glass.

Vanessa snickered which, for some reason, set King off. She burst into a fit of mad giggles: everything was so _preposterous_! She was lying about her well-being, Vanessa, who was insanely hot and apparently totally willing to raw her, was lying about her profession -- as a _secret agent_ no less -- and now she was sitting in a huge house in a posh neighborhood, drinking orange juice. What even was real life?

"Hey, do you want the tour?" Vanessa queried while placing her beer down on a cork coaster.  
"There's a tour?"  
"Yeah! I'll show you around! Come on!"

King set her half finished drink aside; she shadowed her hostess throughout the house and took in each sight, her attention instantly drawn to all of the pictures hanging on the walls and sitting on the shelves. Wedding portraits and candid photographs presented what appeared to be the perfect family: a beautiful man and a beautiful woman with their beautiful child. King fixed her eyes on Vanessa's bare finger and suddenly felt very bad for her. What on earth could have caused such an obviously happy couple to take a break from one another? She was so curious, but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

"And this is the guest room," Vanessa was saying as she pushed a nearby door open.

King jumped; she shook her head before stepping into the room to get a better look: it held a large bed, a dresser, and had its own bathroom. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Ryo and Robert were right: she looked like shit. Vanessa slowly walked up behind her with some degree of caution.

"I'm glad you called me last night," she told her quietly.  
"You are?"  
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

King's eyes met Vanessa's through the mirror and she immediately looked away.

"You dug it all up, remember?"  
"You're still angry."  
"A little, yeah," King stated honestly. She crossed her arms while squinting down at the wooden floor.  
  
"What can I do to change that?"

There was something about the question that made King stand at attention. She stayed perfectly still while the older woman placed her hands on her arms and started rubbing up and down. It was completely innocent, but there was something more to it, something that King couldn't fully grasp. She impulsively spun around, grabbed both sides of Vanessa's face, and kissed her passionately. After several moments she broke the kiss and practically tore her hoodie off, revealing the lace embellished tank top she had carelessly thrown on earlier. She tossed the outerwear on the floor before damn near tackling Vanessa on to the bed.

King didn't know how it happened, but, somehow, she ended up on her back (wow, the mattress was really nice), while Vanessa took charge. She wasn't exactly used to being the so-called bottom, but she really didn't care - there was still plenty she could do. She ran her hands all over her cohort's body (her breasts were _perfect_ ), eliciting little gasps here and there. All at once Vanessa's shirt was off, and she was still on top, and she was softly biting King's neck.

With a sharp breath King heedlessly grabbed Vanessa's hand, which was kneading her breast, and started moving it downward along the side of her body.

"Do it," she breathed.

Vanessa abruptly pulled back. She looked down at King, almost disbelieving, but also obviously excited.

"Are you sure?"

King nodded: She swallowed hard while her jeans were unbuttoned. The sensation of Vanessa's hand made her let out one of her somewhat embarrassing moans as she pushed all of her worries to the back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well... look at me subverting your expectations. Not gonna lie: I'm not very happy with how it turned out, but I edited obsessively, and here we are. Anyway, let's look at a couple of things, yes? Yes.
> 
> *The bit about King eating the bacon in a fit of rage directly refers to Oxygen to Breathe's fourth chapter - where she snatches Mary's bacon and eats it.  
> *King's past: While some of it is headcanon'd, the part about her moving to Southtown at the age of sixteen is mentioned in the All About SNK 1991-2000 book. (It specifically said she appeared in Southtown five years ago, but seeing as her age in AOF was 21, well, math dictates that she was still a teenager.  
> *Arturo Fuente Opus X BBMF cigars (that's a mouthful) run for about 55 bucks each.  
> *Vanessa's character bio says that her hobby is catalog shopping.  
> *In KOF XIII King can be seen wearing a suit jacket that has a lacy shirt under it. I've decided that it's a spaghetti strap tank top. Fight me.
> 
> Ummm, that's it for now. Cheers~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. What have we here? A lot happened last chapter but now it's time to see where it's all going. See you at the end for some notes.
> 
> Onward~!

Shitshitshitshitshit…!

King made a terrible noise as what used to be french fries and orange juice splashed into the toilet bowl. She let out a choked sob as she reached up to flush everything down, and then another, and another. She backed away from the loo until she was up against the opposite wall covering her mouth with both hands while Marron headbutted her long legs. She knew she  _should_  have been happy -- and a part of her actually was -- but, predictably, her conscience was doing a damn fine job of making sure that she felt every emotion  _except_  the positive ones.

"Pourquoi j'ai fait ça, Marron?!" she wept.

Several answers to her own question immediately popped into King's head, each one a little worse than the one before, but all with the same main idea: She was an idiot. Not only was she an idiot, but she was an asshole on top of it. What other explanation could there be for her actions? What sort of idiot asshole would have sex with a woman who was still married and then fuck off to cry about it immediately afterwards?

...Her. The answer was her.

It took several minutes before King was able to collect herself. She got up from the floor, splashed some cool water on her face, and quickly rinsed with mouthwash before leaving the bathroom to retrieve her phone, which she had aimlessly tossed on the sofa beside her wallet, keys and hoodie when she ran into her apartment. She picked up the device and unlocked it so she could try to get a hold of Mary -- again. In the time since King left Vanessa's house she had tried calling and texting her friend several times to no avail. It was entirely possible that she was dealing with a case, or maybe on a date with Terry, but there was something about her  _complete_  lack of response that was a little disconcerting. Nevertheless, King opened her Favorites list and tapped the little photo of Mary. The phone rang exactly six times, and then:

"This is Ryan. Leave a message."  
"OÙ ES-TU PUTAIN?!"

Frustrated, King ended the call and immediately opened iMessage so she could compose yet another frantic text that pretty much begged the detective to get in touch with her ASAP. When she was finished she set the phone down and ran her hands through her hair; she paced around her apartment, her legs slightly shaking, while she wondered what to do next. She really wanted to talk to Mary about what happened, as she would no doubt be able to help her get her head on straight more than Mai (who would be  _way_  too delighted to offer any solid advice) or Yuri (who would probably get a little weird about it), or her little brother (who had no business knowing about her sex life), or Marron (who was a cat). She stopped pacing so she could look down at her hands, which were also shaking, and promptly decided that she needed to do something to calm herself. With that in mind she nearly ran to the fridge, pulled out a can of House Wine Rosé Bubbles, and took a long swig.

King stopped drinking only so she could take a moment to breathe: The second she inhaled she was met with the smell of Vanessa's perfume, which was literally all over her. She let out a miserable half-grunt, half… something... before resolving to take a shower. Wine in hand, she made her way back to the bathroom and turned the water on, all the while trying to make sense of why she did what she did.

She didn't love Vanessa, and she certainly wasn't looking for any type of relationship. Her last full-on sexual encounter, was, well, a violent  _rape_ , and before that it had been literal years since she was touched by anyone. Not to mention that casual sex was never her thing, so… what was it about this woman that made her decide that fucking her was a good idea?! Vanessa was an acquaintance at most; hell, when was the last time they had even  _seen_  each other before all of this happened?! Not to mention she had gone behind King's back, researched her like some kind of weird science project -- with an accomplice no less so now  _he_  probably knew everything, too -- and delved into her personal life like it was no big deal.

Then again, it was kind of… touching? Vanessa knew about King's past - about the things she had done - but hadn't run for the hills. She slept with her anyway, but… that didn't really mean anything… did it? King stripped down and took a long drink; she started to place the remainder of the wine down on the counter but decided to bring it into the shower with her so she could alternate between drinking and washing. However, guzzling the alcohol quickly took precedence over everything else: King stood under the steaming water, drinking her wine and trying to think about anything  _other_  than Vanessa. She didn't  _want_  to think about her, or the curve of her hips, or the feel of her skin, or how she did that thing with her --

King nearly choked on her drink: she felt her face flush as her mind decided to replay every single goddamn thing her and Vanessa did in vivid detail. She swore under her breath and crushed the can. Determined to get the smell of Vanessa off of her, she washed in what had to have been record time. She turned off the water, wrapped her towel around herself, and picked up the mangled can before stepping out of the shower. She spied her reflection in the partially fogged up mirror and immediately noticed a very distinct, very  _obvious_  hickey on her neck.

"Oh, no… no no no," she murmured as she leaned forward so she could see better. She grimaced as she tilted her head: Thankfully, the mark was easily concealable, and would probably heal in a day or two, but the fact of the matter was that it was another reminder of what she had done - or, rather, what she  _shouldn't_  have done. With a huge sigh King slowly walked to her bedroom to get dressed.

 

***

 

" _She's a Killer Quee~een! Gunpowder, gelatine - dynamite with a laser beam~"_

King's eyes flew open as the familiar song startled her awake. She quickly looked around the dark living room, a little confused because she didn't even remember lying down in the first place. Not that it mattered, though: Queen was blaring from her phone's tiny speaker, signalling that Mary was finally calling her back. She snatched the device from the coffee table so she could answer it but her coordination failed her: the phone slipped out of her hand and hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Before King could retrieve it the music stopped and a little banner that read "Mary Ryan Missed Call now" instantly popped up on the screen.

"Damn it…!"

A little groggy, King plucked the gadget off the floor and made a face as she looked at the time: It was well after ten PM, which meant that her sleep schedule was going to be fucked beyond belief. She pressed her lips together and unlocked her phone; she was about to call Mary back but the doorbell rang, which stopped her in her tracks. She quirked a brow as she got up; who the hell would be visiting her at this hour? The chime sounded a second time, and was followed by a series of soft knocks.

"Bb…?"

King's eyes widened at the sound of Mary's voice. She flipped a nearby light switch, quickly unlocked the door, and pulled it open with such force that a huge gust of air blew inside.

" _Where have you been_?!"  
"Don't say I never do anything for you," Mary answered nonchalantly while she sauntered past King. She placed a drink holder that contained two smoothies in it on the table so she could take off her jacket and shoulder holster. Right away King noticed two things about her friend: one was that she didn't have her gun or her badge, and two was that she looked  _tired_  -- like she hadn't slept in days.

Something was wrong.

"Mary, what's going on?"  
"He got off way too easy, Céc --" Mary freed a smoothie and handed it to King, who was somewhat alarmed by the use of her name -- "What he did to you, and what it  _still_  does to you? Justice needed to be served."  
"He… You mean...  _him_ …? Justice?"  
"Yeah, justice. FYI, he'll probably never walk again."

The detective grabbed the other smoothie and took a very long sip. King watched her carefully, a sense of dread metaphorically resting on her shoulder.

"Where have you been?" She quietly repeated her initial question.  
"In custody."  
" _What_?!  _Why_?!"

Mary used her straw to stir her drink. She looked down at the floor, contemplative.

"Your recovery was going  _so_  well… and then last night was  _so_  bad -- almost like the beginning again. Maybe even  _worse_. And, like… something snapped. So I paid him a little visit. And I took out  _both_  of his legs."

King had a sick feeling that she knew exactly what Mary meant by "took out." She ran her fingers along the barren holster on the table, concerned not for  _him_ , but for her friend.

"Mary…?" She asked apprehensively, "Where's Matilda?"  
"Matilda's a good girl who has earned some well-deserved time off," Mary replied as she walked over to the sofa, an unmistakable bounce in her step.

Realization dawned on King: She placed one hand on the table to steady herself, her jaw practically on the floor.

"Did you - did you fucking  _shoot_  him?!"  
"One round in each knee. It was pretty great," Mary replied as she sat down. "Cathartic. I wish you could have seen it."  
"I do, too, but… but your career! Your -- how are you not in jail right now?!"  
"They rushed the arraignment and the DA decided not to press charges," Mary explained with a shrug. "I'm on leave until further notice."  
"But  _how_?!"  
"I dunno. Something is probably amiss, but, like, that's not important right now."

King stared at the cop in disbelief.

"How is that not important?! Mary, you  _shot_   _an inmate_!"  
"Bb," Mary asserted with a pointed look, "I've spent literally my  _entire_  day talking about it. Now, I'll gladly give you all the gory details --  _after_  you tell me what's wrong with you. Because, like, I know you love me, but you don't love me enough to leave me three crazy voicemails and twelve texts in less than ten hours. Now tell me what's going on!"

King leaned on the dining table: she fixed her eyes on the floor, disturbed by everything Mary had told her. She wanted to know more, but she also knew that if she didn't come clean about what was going on with  _her_  Mary would take the opportunity to practice her triangle choke. With that in mind she took a deep breath and shut her eyes.

"I, um… I fucked Vanessa," she said bluntly.  
" _WHAT_?!"

Mary literally jumped out of her seat, almost is if it had burned her. She looked King up and down, her light eyes filled with pure, unadulterated amazement.

"Were you drunk?!"  
"No."  
"So you --  _completely_  sober -- nailed her?!"

King sheepishly nodded as her feelings of unease over the situation immediately began to set in again. She crossed the room and plopped onto the sofa.

"I'm not even in love with her," she groaned. "It just… happened."  
"Something like that doesn't  _just_  happen!"  
"Well, it did. I don't even know why. One second I was so…  _upset_  with her --"  
"Upset?"  
"Yeah, because she used her secret agent connections to --"  
"She told you?!"  
"Yes! Now stop interrupting me!"  
"Sorry, but this is a  _huge_  deal! Bb's first fling!" Mary said as she sat down again. "Nice hickey by the way."

King responded with an anguished sound.

"Aww, come on! This is great! A little complicated, but great!"  
"'Complicated?!' Mary! She's still  _married_!"  
"Okay, well… you knew that going in… so why'd you do it?"  
"JE SAIS PAS!" King wailed as she threw herself back against the couch. She stared up at the ceiling, miserable. "Je sais pas pourquoi je l'ai fait! C'était un  _erreur_!"

"Does  _she_  think it was a mistake?" Mary inquired.  
"Je -- I have no idea." King abruptly switched back to English. "We didn't really... talk."  
"Yeah, I bet," Mary snickered. "I also bet that you're  _so_  bent out of shape over this because you actually enjoyed every second of it. Right?"  
"Even if I  _hadn't_  enjoyed it I'd be bent out of shape!"  
"So you  _did_!"  
"I…! Yeah," King said, her tone defeated. "It was…  _amazing_."  
"Did you match your personal best?"

At that, King's breath caught in her throat. She quickly covered her face, which was an almost obscene shade of red and swallowed hard. In that moment she wished she was blackout drunk because it would make answering the question  _so_  much easier.

"New record," she finally confessed, her voice muffled by her hands.  
"No way!"  
"Ouais..."  
"Are you gonna tell me, or?"  
"Do I have to?"  
"Well, you don't  _have_  to, but --"  
"Five," King blurted out. She hesitantly uncovered her face so she could look at Mary, who was wiping some of her smoothie off of her chin and laughing.

"I almost spit it out all over you. Congratulations!"  
" _Merci,_ " King said dryly. She took a sip of her own drink, which had melted a little; the heat in her face and neck slowly dissipated as she started to calm down a bit.

"So, like, what about 'Nes?" Mary inquired.  
"What about her?"  
"What  _does_  she think about all this?"  
"Like I said," King started slowly, "we didn't really... talk… after..."  
"Wait wait wait," Mary said as she placed her empty cup on the coffee table. "Don't tell me you -"  
"I panicked and --"  
"You nailed her and  _left_?!"  
"It's not like that," King protested. "I --!"  
"THAT LOOK RIGHT THERE!" Mary yelled while pointing her finger at King. "That's your guilty look!"  
"I didn't… I didn't know what to say or what to do!"  
"Oh my god! I really hope -- for  _your_  sake -- that you made her cu --"  
"DON'T  _FUCKING_  SAY IT," King loudly interrupted. She grabbed a nearby throw pillow and hit Mary with it before rising from her seat. With a deep breath she took her smoothie to the kitchen, where she promptly pulled a bottle of raspberry vodka out of the refrigerator. She carefully popped the lid off of the plastic cup so she could combine the liquids.

"And for the record --" King stopped pouring so she could look at Mary, who had followed her over -- "I've still got it."  
"That's awesome and great and I'm glad that you haven't lost your touch -"  
"Har, har."  
" -- but you know you can't run from this, right?"  
"I know that..."

King took a tiny glass from the cabinet above her, poured a shot, and downed it before dumping a little more vodka into her existing drink. She stopped for just a moment before taking the shot glass, pouring another, and sliding it toward Mary, who consumed it immediately.

"Okay, well, if you know that, then stay sober long enough to give her a call and let her know that, A, you're sorry, and, B, you're sorry."

King shut her eyes and started sipping on her newly mixed drink, careful not to give herself brain freeze. She then placed the half-empty cup down on the counter and rested her chin in her hands, suddenly very drained. Mary placed a hand on her back and rubbed up and down.

"Bb?"  
"I don't even know why I did it," King muttered. "Yeah, she's hot, and yeah, I'd be lying if I said I had  _never_  thought about her that way, but --"  
"Bitch, please," Mary assured her gently, "You were probably just horny!"  
"MARY!"  
"What? You're not dead."

King scowled at her friend and wondered if she had even the slightest point. However, she couldn't give it much thought because  _Cherry Pie_  started playing loudly from the living room. King's head snapped up at the sound of the song while Mary stopped moving her hand. They looked at each other, wide-eyed, before Mary yanked King out of the kitchen and started pushing her back to the living room.

"You know what you need to do!"  
" _I know_ ," King replied as she lifted the phone from the coffee table. She took a deep breath before using her finger on the little on-screen slider.

"He-hey..."  
"There you are," came Vanessa's voice. "I was wondering where you went."  
"I, uh… home," King answered lamely.  
"Yeah, I sort of figured."

The two women were quiet. King looked to Mary, who mouthed the word, "Apologize," while making a deliberate motion with her hand. She took a deep breath, and then:

"I made out with one of my employees."

King placed a hand on her forehead as she wondered what the hell she even said that for. Apparently Mary was wondering the same thing because she had an absolutely mystified expression on her face. Nevertheless, King had to try to make it make sense, so she went on.

"It was on Halloween, and she was really drunk and just sort of went for it. I've never even seen her in that way but it happened, and I… never thought I would want to do something like that ever again because of… well… the assault.  _Thinking_  about that stuff made me sick, but I, uh, tried to do...  _it_... myself because I thought that, maybe, that incident triggered something, but I ended up crying into a bowl of candy instead."  
"Have you been drinking?" Vanessa asked without missing a beat.  
"Well, yeah -- a little bit -- but I'm not…"

King trailed off, instantly frustrated with herself. Every goddamn thing she was saying and doing was  _wrong_! She wasn't used to it -- she was used to being (mostly) calm and assertive, not… whatever the hell  _this_  was. She glanced at Mary, who was watching her carefully before turning away so that she was facing the wall.

"Fuck it," she stated. "Come over."  
"What?"  
"I feel weird having this conversation on the phone," King replied.  
"Wouldn't you feel weirder having it in person?"  
"Yeah, probably, but if I say something stupid you won't be able to hang up on me."  
"I can just punch you in the liver instead."  
"Exactly."  
"That last comment was a joke," Vanessa informed her.

King didn't reply. She pressed her lips together while she waited for Vanessa's answer.

"Well..." Vanessa said thoughtfully, "Kiddo's with the grandparents until tomorrow night so… sure. I can swing by. Just text me your address and I'll be over."  
"Promise?!"

King grimaced while Mary raised her eyebrows: god, that sounded fucking desperate!

"Don't worry, King," Vanessa said after a moment. "I prefer to face things head-on."  
"R-right. Umm… see you soon…"

As soon as King hung up Mary hopped in front of her, her freckled face screwed up in something she couldn't pin down.

"What the hell was  _that_?!"  
"Fuckery," King answered somewhat distractedly as she started typing her address into a message to Vanessa.  
"Pfft, no kidding," Mary retorted. "What are you going to do when she gets here? Talk? ...Or ' _talk_?'"  
"I'm about to drop kick you right out that door."  
"Aww, come on, bb. Let's be real. It's going to be the two of you here alone, and you've already slept with her once  _and_  you've been drinking."  
"I am  _not_  going to do it again. I'm just going to tell her I'm sorry and that's  _it_."

With that King walked back to the kitchen and resumed drinking her alcoholic beverage, which was probably a little  _too_  strong but she didn't care: she could handle her liquor… it was her ability to handle her feelings, however, that was debatable. She glanced at Mary, who was staring right at her, arms crossed over her chest.

"...what?"  
"She's probably just as conflicted about this as you are."  
"If she is, she has an… interesting way of showing it," King responded, her cheeks flushing slightly.  
"I'm serious, Céc. Her marriage is on the rocks, she's lying to literally  _everyone_  about what she does. On top of that she's a mom."

King realized with some degree of horror that she hadn't really thought about things from Vanessa's perspective at all -- she was too preoccupied with her own fears and doubts that the other woman's feelings never actually crossed her mind -- and it made her feel awful.

"Now twist the knife counterclockwise," she told Mary sadly.  
"Bb…"  
"I'm going to have to kick you out in a minute," King abruptly changed the subject.  
"Yeah, I know, but let me help you straighten up a little bit before I go. You go scoop out that foul demon's litter --"  
"Don't talk shit about my cat."  
" -- and I'll do the dishes."

As Mary started toward the kitchen King stared after her, suddenly a little emotional. While it was true that she was incredibly close with Mai and Yuri, there was something about Mary that set her apart from them. Maybe it was because she had met King when she was at rock bottom and never judged her for the things she had done, or maybe it was because, despite her hatred for cats, she was always willing to pet sit if needed, or maybe it was because she walked into a penitentiary and shot her rapist (again) knowing full well that it could end her career or even send her to jail - a thought that was simply terrifying.

Despite never being much for physical affection King couldn't help rushing over and throwing her arms around the smaller woman.

"Wow, bb, that vodka's hitting you hard, huh?!"  
"Shut up…!"  
"Was it something I said? Did?" Mary asked, slightly taken aback.

King could feel the corners of her eyes beginning to tear up. Maybe the vodka  _was_  hitting her hard. She continued to hold on to Mary like some sort of lifeline, all at once a little scared of what her next meeting with Vanessa was going to bring.

"Just… shut up," she whispered.  
"Awww," Mary laughed. "I love you too, bb."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this chapter was much slower and had a lot of talking, but I feel like it needed to play out like this. Anyway, let's go:
> 
> * Pourquoi j'ai fait ça, Marron?! = Why did I do that, Marron?!  
> * OÙ ES-TU PUTAIN = WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU  
> * House Wine Rosé Bubbles = Apparently canned wine is becoming more and more popular and packs a little bit of a punch. As a bartender and lover of wine, King definitely has this stuff lying around.  
> * King drinking in the shower = disaster bi  
> * Mary's ringtone in King's phone is Killer Queen by Queen  
> * There are some very intentional parallels to earlier stories, where Mary casually brings over smoothies and just talks with King about the status quo  
> * Have you read Bang? Do you remember it? That took place during the last chapter. Obviously there was a lot of research involved in the logistics that would surround an officer not going to jail for shooting someone.  
> * Mary's gun is named Matilda, which is the name of Leon Kennedy's starting handgun in Resident Evil 2 (this gun also makes an appearance in RE4). +5 points if you got it.  
> * JE SAIS PAS = I DON'T KNOW  
> * Je sais pas pourquoi je l'ai fait! C'était un erreur! = I don't know why I did it! It was a mistake!  
> * When Mary says "No way" to King's answer about her personal best, King replies with "Ouais," which is French for "Yeah" but also a play on words, as it is pronounced "way"  
> * Merci = Thank you/thanks  
> * When King starts talking about making out with an employee, she's talking about Sally, and the events of Closed. Her allusion to failed masturbation refers to Bothered and Bewildered.  
> * Mary canonically hates cats  
> * Headcanon stuff: Mary and King met when King went to the police after being defeated by Ryo in AOF1. King was, obviously, a wreck, and Mary was a rookie on the force. Ask me about it some time.
> 
> Okay, that's it. Just a quick thank you to everyone sticking with this one! A warning that I'm going to have to go on a little bit of a hiatus soon, so the next chapter probably won't be out for a minute. Anyway, as always, let me know what's up! Cheers~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The conclusion to this little slice-of-life tale of King's slow return to normalcy! Notes at the end. Enjoy!

King paced around her newly tidied up apartment, her nerves shot in spite of the buzz that had set in from drinking so much vodka in such a short period of time. Mary had left ages ago, but Vanessa would still be there any second, and when she arrived… then what? The plan was simple enough: invite her in, offer her a drink, and apologize for being a selfish asshole. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too angry, and would even find it in her heart to forgive King for being so thoughtless. They would part amicably, and King would crawl under her covers and let her residual guilt over the entire situation slowly eat away at her for the rest of her life. What could go wrong, besides literally everything? Not only that, but there was also Mary’s joke about “talking” -- which was a possibility that King didn’t even  _ want _ to think about: What happened in the afternoon was a one time thing; she couldn’t --  _ wouldn’t _ \-- do it again. She continued to walk around, a tiny bit unsteady, pondering every scenario she could come up with while Marron followed her, his meowing almost loud enough to drown out her thoughts.

“S’il te plaît! Laisse-moi tranquille!” King exclaimed as she finally stopped pacing. She looked down at the cat and sighed before kneeling down to pet him. He clumsily jumped up and draped himself across her shoulders, which made her giggle as his fat belly pushed her head slightly forward. She reached up to pet him some more just as the doorbell rang.

“Damn...!”

King stood up (Marron nimbly hopped off of her) and awkwardly smoothed her clothes: she wondered if she should have at least replaced her star-covered short-shorts with some jeans or something -- to look more “put together” -- but, honestly, it didn’t matter: not only was it late, but trying to put on some sort of front would be pointless at best. Vanessa knew she was a mess; there was no use trying to pretend otherwise.   


With a deep breath King slowly pulled the door to the apartment open, revealing Vanessa in all of her crimson-haired splendor. She stood with her hands in the pockets of an oversized hooded sweatshirt that said something about coffee while her sneakered foot rhythmically tapped the welcome mat. The look was completed by a pair of striped cotton capris and a simple black purse.

“Hey.”  
“H-hey,” King responded as she held the door open. “Come in.”

Vanessa smirked as she walked inside. She removed her sneakers, placed her purse on the dining table, and sat down, her face unreadable.

“Would you, umm… like something to drink?” King asked while shutting the door.   
“Just some water, thanks.”

Wordlessly, King went to the kitchen so she could fetch Vanessa’s beverage. She tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound goofy or contrived but had no such luck, so she closed her eyes and quietly sighed as she held the cup under the water dispenser on the fridge.    
  
“You cleaned up,” Vanessa commented from her place at the table.    
“Oh, um… yeah,” King replied, the glass in her hand finally full. She brought the drink out to her guest, who placidly thanked her, before sitting down at the table. She folded her hands in her lap as Vanessa sipped her water, all the while trying  _ not _ to think about the generous breasts under that frumpy sweater, or the birthmark on the inner part of her thigh or --    
  
“Your face is red.”   
  
King shook her head as Vanessa’s observation derailed her train of thought. She cleared her throat and nervously ran a hand through her hair, all the while attempting to avoid making eye contact with the woman across from her. Her efforts were in vain, though: her eyes met Vanessa’s, and she  _ immediately _ thought back to how she looked at her when she told her to “do it,” and -- 

“ARRÊTE ÇA!” King commanded herself out loud. She threw her hands over her face and peeked at Vanessa through her fingers: the other woman was staring at her with raised eyebrows.   
  
“Are you…  _ okay _ ?” She asked slowly.   
“No! Of course I’m not okay,” King shouted while uncovering her face. “I’m such a selfish dumbass! I’m a selfish dumbass and I’m  _ so  _ sorry for how I acted! I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I just -- I should have never -- it was… I made a  _ mistake _ ! And then I didn’t even  _ think _ about  _ your _ feelings! You’ve been so… so…  _ incredible _ ! Meanwhile  _ I’ve _ been a cu --”   
“Hey, hey, hey --” Vanessa put both hands up -- “Don’t be  _ too _ hard on yourself! Yes, you really  _ should _ have thought about my feelings before bolting but I should have thought about yours, too. You went through something truly awful, and I should have been more understanding of that before I --”   
  
King cut Vanessa off with a perturbed groan.

“You’re doing it again!”   
“Doing what?”   
“Being amazing!”   
“Would you rather I be…  _ not _ amazing?”   
“I’d rather you… I don’t know! Punch me and call me a bitch! Tell me you never want to see me again! Just stop being so nice!”

Vanessa frowned. The two fell into a somewhat bewildered silence as King slowly placed her head down on the table.  
  
“J’en peux plus de cette merde,” she groaned.   
“Oh, King…”

King jumped very slightly when she felt Vanessa’s hand on top of hers, but didn’t pull away. She just sat there and wondered where the actual hell they could go from there. Her lame apology couldn’t possibly set things right -- though she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try. She exhaled sharply before raising her head… and instantly froze under the intensity of Vanessa’s gaze. She opened her mouth in a feeble attempt to speak but ended up stammering a string of incoherent syllables instead. What was it about this woman that rendered her completely incapable of functioning?!

“Listen. It sucked when you were like, ‘Oh my god’ before just running off,” Vanessa told King while absently running her fingers along the back of her hand, “but I can’t be mad at you because I know that it was your first time since what happened. It’s actually kind of flattering, really.”   
“...It is?”    
“Yeah. Because, mistake or not, you let your guard down with  _ me _ . So, yeah -- flattering.”   
“I, ummm…” King shifted in her seat as she fixed her eyes on Vanessa’s hand, which was still moving along the back of hers. “I’m... glad that you let me flatter you.”   
  
King grimaced; that did  _ not _ come out right by any stretch of the imagination. She felt her cheeks heating up as Vanessa burst into laughter. She nervously chuckled and tried to follow up with another clumsy apology, but decided that she should just stop talking before she said something stupid or weird. She chanced another glance at Vanessa, who had stopped laughing and was now regarding her with something she couldn’t place. 

“Y-yes...?” King asked hoarsely.    
“I don’t know,” Vanessa mumbled. “You’re just... so…” 

Vanessa trailed off as she slowly drew closer to King, while still toying with her hand. King, meanwhile, found herself unable to resist when their lips touched. She shut her eyes as any semblance of will power -- or was that common sense...? -- crumbled.

  
  


###   
  


“ _ Muh… Ah mon Dieu…! _ ”  
  
King reached up behind her and gripped the slats on the headboard, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She cried out as Vanessa’s tongue worked between her legs and wondered how,  _ exactly _ , she had found herself in this situation yet  _ again _ . She could say that it was the vodka until she was blue in the face but the fact of the matter was that, for the second time that day, she was in bed with a married woman -- and  _ really _ fucking enjoying it.

Suddenly Vanessa stopped what she was doing, which gave King an opportunity to try to regain her bearings. She swallowed hard and started to say something but instantly stopped as her companion switched things up a bit: she repositioned herself so she could speak into King’s ear while her hand moved south to finish what she started. 

“Is  _ this _ is a mistake, Céc?”   
  
King’s breath caught and her eyes widened: her muscles tensed while she tried -- and utterly failed -- to fully process the question. Yes? No! Mistake? What?!   
  
“H-huh?!”    
“Is. this. a mistake...?”    
  
Vanessa punctuated each word with a different movement, effectively hindering any semblance of rational thought King could have possibly had in that moment. It only took a brief second before she involuntarily let out a loud (and, of course, embarrassing) shout: her hands clinched the headboard so tightly that it was almost a little painful as she came. 

(Again.)   
  
“...Holy shit…!”

King worked to steady her breathing while slowly uncurling her fingers -- which had gone slightly numb -- from the wooden furniture. 

“I guess that answers that,” Vanessa said. She headbutted King’s neck before bringing herself to her feet. King watched her disappear into the bathroom down the short hall as she tried to make sense of what the hell just happened. She hadn’t fucked Vanessa because of the alcohol (but it might have helped), and Mary’s theory about just being horny wasn’t it, either, so _why_ did she do it again? Was she really that _weak_?! Hands shaking, she wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve before adjusting her bra and pulling her shirt down.  
  
“Think fast!”  
  
Vanessa emerged from the bathroom and tossed a damp washcloth at King, snapping her out of her reverie as she yanked it out of the air with one hand. She stared down at it for just a moment as the weight of Vanessa’s question started to sink in. Was sleeping with her really, _truly_ a mistake? Her _body_ sure as hell didn’t think so, but did that really mean anything in the grand scheme of things?  
  
“Uh-oh,” Vanessa made a face. “What’s the matter?”  
“It’s nothing,” King answered while swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She abruptly walked past the other woman and made her way to the bathroom.  
“That sounds like something,” Vanessa called from outside the room.   
  
King’s eyes flitted from the doorway to her reflection in the mirror. Although she knew that Vanessa would have never made a move on her if it wasn’t okay within the confines of her marriage, the term “homewrecker” immediately popped into her head. Even worse was that she imagined _him_ calling her that. (She was going to have to make Mary a very special drink for shooting him…) She hastily cleaned up, embittered by how her brain worked: she had just finished having the most wholesome, and amazing, and _consensual_ sex with a beautiful woman she had crushed on forever for the second time that day, but no matter what she did, her happiness (which actually _did_ exist somewhere) was buried by feelings of inadequacy and guilt.   
  
“Putain de merde,” King growled under her breath. She stomped out of the bathroom, put on some clean underwear, and left the bedroom to see Vanessa standing at the dining table, fully dressed and looking down at her phone. She turned around when she heard King approach and offered her a wide smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hi, you.”   
“Hi. I’m still an asshole and we can’t keep doing this,” King blathered quickly, her voice faltering. “It was  _ great _ , and  _ you’re _ great, but we can’t!  _ I _ can’t!”   
“Hey, hey, hey,” Vanessa said in a soothing tone as she crossed the room. She placed her hands on King’s shoulders and looked down into her face. 

“Relax! You’re  _ fine _ !”  
“I -- how can you say that…?! I’m  _ insufferable _ !”  
“No,” Vanessa firmly told King as she pulled her close, “You’re young, and you’re still learning to enjoy intimacy again. You know, it’s okay to admit that you had a good time in there.”   
“I never said I didn’t,” King shot back, “But I… I’ve never been good with these things! Even if I  _ hadn’t _ been --”   
“King,” Vanessa cut in.   
“Yeah?”   
“Stop talking.”

King slowly nodded before burying her face in Vanessa’s shoulder. It was a little odd being shorter than another woman but there was something about it that was actually sort of comforting. She started to relax as Vanessa gently stroked her hair.

“This is kind of nice,” King admitted with a yawn.   
“Is it?” Vanessa asked.  
“Mm-hm.”

After a minute Vanessa stopped rubbing King’s hair. She exhaled through her nose and cleared her throat.

“So,” she said, her voice clear but a little apprehensive. “Would now be a bad time to tell you that David wants to work things out?”

King pulled back so she could look up at Vanessa, her brow furrowed.   
  
“Don’t worry -- he texted me while you were in the bathroom.”  
“Well, what about you? What do  _ you _ want to do?” King asked, glad that the text in question hadn’t come in  _ before _ they did certain… things.

Vanessa frowned as she took a step back and looked at the floor. 

“You’re fantastic -- irresistible, really -- and I’ve had a lot of fun getting to know you, but… I miss my family.”   


King squinted at the other woman, her mouth slightly agape. On one hand, she was intensely relieved: she  _ wanted _ Vanessa to be happy. Not only did she want her to be happy, but she wanted to be absolutely sure that they wouldn’t keep the awkward fling going. On the other, she was just told that someone else’s company was preferable to hers. She nodded slowly before doubling over in a fit of giggles.

“So, you’re not… upset?” Vanessa asked hesitantly.   
“‘ _ Upset _ ?!’” King exclaimed gleefully. She pulled herself upright and walked to the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator, pulled out what remained of the raspberry vodka, and took a long swig straight from the bottle, laughing almost the whole time.   
“Why should I be upset?! C’est fantastique!”

King took another gulp of vodka as she thought about the sheer insanity of her weekend. Her short time with Vanessa had done  _ wonders _ for her recovery, but now she had to wade through her feelings about love, sex, and relationships as a whole, along with a few new questions about what type of person she  _ really _ was. In that moment she realized two things: one was that sleeping with Vanessa actually  _ wasn’t _ a mistake.

The other was that her therapist was going to have a field day with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaayyyy, you did it! Pat yourself on the back for getting through this! (I might be projecting just a little bit...) Anyway, let's go~:
> 
> * S'il te plaît! Laisse-moi tranquille! = Please! Leave me alone! Cats, man.  
> * ARRÊTE ÇA = STOP IT  
> * J'en peux plus de cette merde = I can't deal with this shit anymore  
> * Ah mon Dieu = Oh my god  
> * Putain de merde = this one is a nice, versatile curse: motherfucker, fucking shit, etc. Take your pick.  
> * No one knows Vanessa's husband's name so I just made some shit up. I'll retcon later if need be.  
> * C'est fantastique = This is fantastic  
> * King is a legitimately morally grey character. She does things if they benefit her and hers, so when she ponders what kind of person she really is, it means she's starting to have doubts about her own reasons for jumping into bed with Vanessa despite knowing about her marriage. (In case you were wondering.)
> 
> Welp. That's it. King has finally taken THE step after such a traumatic experience. Obviously, it seriously fucked her up for awhile, but she's turned a new leaf! Special thanks to jojoDO once again for putting the idea of KingxVanessa in my head in the first place, as well as anyone who listened to me bitch about writing whenever I hit a block. 
> 
> Cheers~


End file.
